Spin
by CobaltBlue94
Summary: Rachel questions who Quinn really is, and Quinn gets her ass kicked /a lot/ trying to find it out herself. Faberry. Quintana/Pezberry friendships.
1. Chapter 1

Titled: Spin (based on the song by Lifehouse)

Author: H.J. Lewis

Rating: T, for language and implied sexual content

Summary: Rachel questions who Quinn really is.

(A/N: This is so totally off-canon with everything after Yes/No. Rachel didn't say 'yes' to Finn's proposal, so there was no wedding for Quinn to be going to and no truck to be struck by.)

1.

Rachel was waiting for a ride on the school steps leading to the student parking lot, one earbud of her iPod in as she listened to Christina Aguilera's voice play. Finn had been her original ride home from school every day, but their relationship had been strained since she had turned down his proposal; so she and Quinn had been taking turns carpooling ever since Quinn had caught Rachel walking home in the February sleet one day. Realistically, they could have just taken their own cars after that day, but they had a sort of unspoken understanding that neither of them really wanted to be alone much.

She had, at first, been leery about her tentative friendship with the blonde, especially after their Regionals win and Quinn's reinstatement to the Cheerios. Quinn, however, had remained determined to gain Rachel's trust, and the two had been slowly laying the foundation for a solid friendship.

Just the thought of it made Rachel feel giddy with happiness, something that she experienced all too infrequently in all other aspects of her life these days. Including Finn. Rachel sighed sadly, wouldn't her life just be so much easier if her girl friend could be her boyfriend? She laughed out loud at the thought.

"Something funny, motor-mouth?" demanded a voice. For an instant, Rachel thought it was Santana and nearly rolled her eyes, but she knew Santana's voice like the back of her hand, and this voice wasn't Santana's.

Rachel whirled around to come face to face with a slew of jocks and cheerleaders. All of them armed with slushies. Her eyes centered on one cheerleader who was standing slightly apart from all the others, closer to Rachel. Cassie, if she remembered the girl's name correctly, was center on the third tier of the Cheerios pyramid, but she had been named captain before Santana and Brittany had returned to the squad.

Cassie took another step toward Rachel and the jocks followed her. "You know, it's one thing when you remember your place and stay out of _our_ way," the Cheerio began, "but you've been getting a little too close, Berry."

The first slushy hit Rachel like a million needles striking her simultaneously, and she realized she'd forgotten what it felt like. She wiped the red slushie from her eyes and tried to run the other way, but she was surrounded by athletes holding cups of frozen corn syrup.

"You _really_ thought that you could be friends with _the_ Quinn Fabray, didn't you?" Cassie sneered with a bark of mirthless laughter. "Like any Cheerio would give a loser like you the time of day." The way the cheerleader spat words 'any', 'loser' and 'you' made Rachel feel small inside in a way she hadn't in a long time. "Face it, Berry," – another slushie hit her –"you'll never be anything but an ugly," –another rush of ice against her face –"over-confident," –again the cold splashed against her freezing form –"rambling," –the next one was dumped right over her head, and she could feel it seeping through to her undergarments –"talentless, know-it-all freak."

The rest of the contents of the Big Gulp cups hit her like an arctic tsunami, and she could hear the containers being dropped carelessly to the ground, but her eyes were shut tightly so she couldn't see.

"You're the lowest of the losers, and _we're_ the top dogs," she heard Azimio Adams address her. "Why don't you stick to your own end of the social ladder, instead of trying to climb after Fabray and Hudson, hu—"

"Azimio! What the hell is going on here?" another voice bellowed.

Rachel brushed ice chunks and syrup from her eyes to find Puck, Mike, Sam and, surprisingly, Blaine striding threateningly toward the clique of jocks and cheerleaders. Puck, who had been the voice shouting at Azimio, looked ready to slam someone's head into the brick wall of the school building and Sam didn't appear much better. She felt Sam and Mike help her up from where she'd stumbled on the steps and Sam pulled some napkins from his jacket pocket to clean her off a bit. She smiled gratefully at him, while fighting off angry tears.

How had she been so careless and stupid? She had seen in Quinn what she had always wanted to see, but it was obvious now that the blonde had been playing her, and Rachel had been letting her. Quinn had used her until she saw an opportunity to get back on top, and she didn't even have the decency to slushie Rachel herself.

The jocks and Cheerios laughed at Puck's show of gallantry and Azimio spoke again, "We're not going to fight you, Puckerman. You're a teammate." But Puck raised his fist anyway.

"Noah, don't!" Rachel ordered him shrilly.

Puck had one hand around Azimio's thick neck and the other closed in a fist and drawn back to punch his teammate, but he looked over his shoulder at the sound of Rachel's command. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't, Rach!" he yelled back, eyes now scrutinizing Azimio's slightly fearful face.

"Because Azimio isn't the problem, these people are just the messengers," Rachel answered in a small, resigned voice. She tried not to cry or sound too heartbroken, but she was. She stepped forward and reached out to put a small hand on Puck's shoulder and began to lower his arm just as Azimio opened up his mouth.

"Listen to the little freak, Puck, we're just calling it like it is," the football-player snapped.

In the next moment, Puck had drawn his arm back to punch Azimio again and his fist wasn't the only thing that collided with another person. As the jock slid down the wall, Puck turned back in horror to find Rachel on the ground clutching her mouth and nose with wide eyes.

Then the sharp sound of whistle cut through the hair like a scream and a voice like a fired shotgun sounded. "Whatever the _hell_ is happening here– it ends _now_." And everyone turned to look at the fuming blonde.

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Quinn was exhausted and felt like she'd been run over by a truck. Her day had started out fine, she had picked Rachel up fifteen minutes early which meant she got to have breakfast with Mr. and Mr. Berry who were both morning people.

Rachel's dads were funny and kind and understanding, and after a few dinners over at their house, Quinn began to think of them like family. They had even invited her mother over a couple times, and Judy Fabray was now in love with both of the Berry men. Quinn still didn't know how she felt about her mother being in love with two happily married gay men.

She and Rachel had spent the drive to school singing and laughing, because Rachel's voice always cracked in the mornings and Quinn always playfully teased her about it. This morning their anthem of choice had been an old NSYNC CD. Quinn smiled just thinking of it.

But the day had been all downhill from there. She'd flunked the History test that she had _promised_ Rachel that she would ace if the brunette let them ditch studying for awhile to go watch the new _Footloose_ movie. Then someone had called Brittany an idiot and made her cry, and since Santana was having a particularly bitchy day, the Latina attacked first and asked questions later, which meant that Quinn had to stop her hot-tempered friend from murdering a student in the hallway. No sooner had she calmed Santana down and gotten Brittany back to her normal happy-go-lucky self, then another Cheerio in the locker room had the audacity to comment on her friendship with Rachel. Which had left _Santana_ holding _her_ back. The rest of the day had consisted of her trying not to lose her cool on Finn in fourth-period Health class or in glee club, before leading thirty whining teenage girls in running laps around the track.

Needless to say, she was thankful it was finally Friday. Now all she wanted to do was roll down the windows of her VW bug, let her hair down and crank up the music with her best friend. Maybe even friend_s_, if Santana's mood had lifted enough to be nice to Rachel.

She really should have known better.

Quinn was still in the shower when a breathless Brittany and Santana (she now just preferred to call them 'Brittana') barged into the locker room and pulled back the shower curtain quickly. Quinn lunged to pull it back and cover herself just as fast, only leaving her head peeking out.

"Jeez, you two, do I need to explain what the term 'monogamous relationship' means? Don't you two get enough action with each other?" she demanded as she shook her head against the rush of unwanted mental images. "I'll be out in a minute."

"No, Q, you needs to be out _now_," Santana told her with a seriousness that seemed foreign coming from the Latina.

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Why?" she retorted irritably. "If you need something from my bag, Santana, you can get it your—"

"Q, it's not about us," Brittany cut-in, eyes wide in panic. "It's about Rachel."

Heart dropping rapidly in her chest, Quinn spun quickly to rinse the last remnants soap from her body and shut the water off before wrapping the towel around herself and stepping out. She looked at her two oldest friends. "What about Rachel?" she asked forcefully.

"That chick, Cassie, the one who weaseled her way to the top after we quit the squad last year?—" Santana began.

"The same girl who was antagonizing me about Rachel earlier?" Quinn asked through gritted teeth.

Brittany nodded hastily, even as Quinn had already ripped off her towel and begun yanking her clothes on like the fate of the world depended on it. "She didn't like what you said about her needing to know her place as a third-rate cheerleader now that we're back, and her not having the agony—"

"Authority, Britt," Santana corrected her quickly.

"Right, authority, to give you her opinion on your business," Brittany finished, summarizing Quinn and Cassie's 'talk' earlier.

"What the hell is she up to now?" the hazel-eyed blonde growled, quickly towel-drying her hair and chucking the towel into the hamper. Quinn violently snatched her bag from the floor and shoved through the locker room and down the hallway with Brittana on her heels.

Even just from her peripheral vision, Quinn could see the couple exchange anxious glances from either side of her, and Santana finally answered, "She and her bimbotic lemmings are getting their jock boyfriends and some teammates and settling it in the parking lot. Bitch couldn't get to you so…"

"So she's going straight for Rachel," Quinn finished, she kicked a locker noisily without breaking her stride. "Damn it all to hell!" she screamed. "When I get done with that bitch, we're going to be one third-tier short of a pyramid."

The three finally exited the doors to the student lot, swinging them open with such force that they banged loudly against the brick walls. The first thing she saw was Rachel, drenched head to toe in red and blue frozen corn syrup, being knocked down by Puck's elbow as he decked Azimio. Rachel was struggling to get up and watching the scene play out with horror and shock written all over her face. _Her face–_ which was now bruised, with a scrape on her chin, and blood oozing from her nose and mouth.

From beside her, Quinn heard Santana say, "_No me gusta, putas._"

Quinn put her fingers to her lips and whistled sharply, and all eyes turned to her. Her hazel eyes burned with dangerous fury as the former Queen Bee stepped forth and regarded both the boys in the skirmish and the crowd watching.

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	2. Chapter 2

2.

"Whatever the _hell_," the blonde growled in a dangerously low voice, "is going on here— it ends _now_." She walked forward with surprising grace and grabbed Cassie by the hair. "Listen up, Regina George, you wanna make a public scene of things?" she demanded. "Go back to whatever circus you came from."

Quinn chose to then ignore Cassie for the time being and turned to the rest of the crowd, "Everybody clear out! Show's over!" Just like that, the smarter jocks and cheerleaders bustled off in various directions, all except for Puck, Sam, Mike, Brittana, and Rachel. And, of course, Cassie and Azimio. Blaine gave Quinn a questioning look, to which she responded with a nod, before he left too.

Cassie, realizing that it was now her and her boyfriend against the Unholy Trinity (enough said), and three guys who had all played football and sacked more than their fair share of linebackers, decided to do the stupid thing and resorted to jibes.

"So _now_ you're playing protector to the losers, huh Q?" she laughed, like wasn't she just so clever.

"Don't start something you can't finish, Fabray. Or weren't you the one who started Berry's best nicknames? RuPaul, Man-Hands, Treasure Trail… remember those? We all know what you're up to, yeah? Some sort of final senior prank, special just for the little queen loser herself," Azimio continues tauntingly.

The harsh laugh that resounded from Quinn's throat and echoed throughout the parking lot was dry and mirthless. "You caught me, Adams!" she replied with a sarcastic sneer. She threw her hands into the air and let them fall as she began to pace in front of him. "Yeah, this is all just some joke, some sick elaborate scheme to… what, exactly? What do you think would I have to gain from pretending to be Rachel's friend and then shattering her, huh?"

Cassie stepped toward her angrily. "You used to have a reputation around here, until you decided to blow it all off to hang out with the losers. Whatever happened to the ruthless Head Cheerio, hmm?"

Quinn's eyes narrowed to slits. "She grew up. You should try it sometime, it's refreshing." Quinn spun on her heel to approach Rachel, reaching for her hand.

But Azimio wasn't quite finished, and neither was Cassie. The other Cheerio stalked after Quinn and grabbed her arm roughly. "You can't protect her forever, Q. Losers like her need to know their place, and she'll never be anything but a freak—"

On the drop of a dime, Quinn turned around and shoved Cassie back against the wall. Unfortunately, Azimio hadn't been caught entirely off-guard like his girlfriend had and the back of his hand struck her across the face. That's when Quinn _really_ flipped out. The gloves came off, the claws came out, and before anyone knew what was happening Azimio's nose was broken and so was Quinn's right fist.

Her left one, however was fine, and she grabbed Cassie by the front of her shirt as the lower-level Cheerio slid to the ground and drew the younger girl in close. "We'll see how big you talk in ten years when her name is in lights and you're stuck in this hellhole of a town with five kids and a good-for-nothing husband," Quinn snapped in a vicious whisper. "And if you _ever_ threaten or do _anything _to her again, or say a word about this to anyone, I'll make sure _you _have much worse than a broken nose."

Puck helped Quinn to stand up, but she politely shrugged him off when she was upright, instead making her way to Rachel and tried to envelop the teary-eyed girl into a hug.

Rachel, however, shoved her away angrily. "_Don't_ –touch me," the brunette snapped at Quinn with ire in her tone, punctuating the words.

"Okay," Quinn replied, holding her hands up where Rachel could see them and taking a step away from the girl. "I won't touch you, see? But we do need to get you home and take care of those cuts and scrapes."

The look of absolute hurt and near hatred in Rachel's normally soft, warm, brown eyes made Quinn feel sick to her stomach. "I'm not going _anywhere_ with you," the brunette screamed, tears falling down from her bronze cheeks. Then the smaller girl turned on her heel and ran back inside the school to hide until Quinn left. She should have known that Quinn wouldn't let that happen.

Rachel made it to the lobby before Quinn caught up to her and lightly grabbed her elbow with her uninjured hand. "Get off me!" she shrieked, throwing Quinn's hand off.

A sob broke forth from Rachel's beautiful mouth and Quinn wanted nothing more than to engulf her best friend in a hug and wipe away the star's tears; to tell her that they were all wrong because Rachel was beautiful and amazing and so, _so_ talented. That it was over. To tell her that this wasn't Rachel's fault and Quinn wouldn't let it happen ever again. But Rachel seemed so full of contempt and loathing.

"Rachel, I tried to get to you—" Quinn tried to explain, but Rachel was having none of it.

There were several moments where Rachel laughed like a bitter maniac, and Quinn's mind went through several different scenarios of what she could do. Then Rachel spoke, "Oh, and you did, Quinn." Another humorless scoff. "God, how could I have been so stupid!" she shouted in self-admonishment. "I really believed that you had changed, that you were finally letting me in, letting me get to know the real Quinn Fabray." Rachel looked at Quinn as if she wanted to slap her. "And you played me," she added in a quieter voice.

Quinn eyes widen when she realized with sudden clarity why Rachel was treating her this way. "Oh God, Rachel, that's not it! You've got it all wrong, okay?" she spoke up to defend herself.

"Don't. You and your clique have had your fun, Quinn, so you can give up the 'friends' act." In that moment, Quinn realized that the only thing scarier than angry Rachel, was resigned Rachel, because here was her best friend sounding betrayed and heartbroken with zero hope in her voice.

"Rach, that bitch Cassie is not my friend. _You're_ my friend, Rachel," Quinn told her in a soft voice.

"I TRUSTED YOU!" Rachel screamed at her as a fresh bout of tears erupted to the resurface. "I trusted you and you set me up! Shattered my heart like it was nothing to you, like _I_ meant nothing to you!" She glared at Quinn with all the disdain in the world written all over her face. "I hope you enjoyed yourself, Quinn, because in a few months, we're going to graduate and you're going to Yale and no one will fear or admire you there, they'll just see you for the self-absorbed, superficial, two-faced, ice-hearted bitch that you are! The person that I tried to convince myself was all just a mask you put up to keep everyone out because you didn't want them to see the sweet and vulnerable girl underneath."

Rachel was crying full-out now, sobbing and screaming almost unintelligibly, but Quinn understood her and her words hit the blonde like an uppercut to the stomach. Had Rachel really given up on her that quickly?

Quinn took a few panicked steps toward the brunette now, as Rachel began to move for the doors. "Rachel, Rachel! RACHEL!" she called desperately as Rachel strode out into the chilly early-April air. Quinn vaguely registered that their friends were still there, loitering around but she didn't care. She finally managed to grab the girl and spin her around to face the blonde, who was now openly crying as well. "Rachel, _please_. Please," she begged through broken sobs.

The brunette eyed her coldly. "I _never_ wish to speak to you again," Rachel said with indifference. "Have a nice life, Quinn. I'm sure you'll receive everything you deserve." With that, she stepped out of Quinn's grasp and began to walk away without looking back once.

If this weren't reality, which Quinn prayed it wasn't, she would laugh at how melodramatic she was being as she fell to her knees in the parking lot, sobbing and still calling out for Rachel to come back. But she wasn't laughing.

Two pairs of strong arms lifted her to her feet and supported her weight from either side, walking her to someone's car and putting her into the backseat where a warm body climbed in with her, and she desperately wished it were Rachel.

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	3. Chapter 3

3.

Santana looked back to Quinn's car, where Brittany was in the backseat cradling the other blonde as she sobbed. "God, this must be hell," she remarked in a whisper.

"It is for Quinn," Puck agreed, following Santana's line of sight. He looked back to Santana, to find her looking at him. "Do you think she's figured it out yet?" he asked her then, the two watching as Sam pulled out of the lot in Puck's pick-up to make sure Rachel got home alright.

A dry scoff was let out by Santana. "Which one of 'em?" she returned sarcastically. "Because I think Q's known for awhile now. … Berry? Probably not. I think she's too pissed to see past the end of her honestly large nose. This is just a mess."

Puck nodded in agreement and they were quiet until he asked, "Are you taking Quinn back to your place?"

"Either to Papi or to the ER. One way or another, her hand needs to be reset and taken care of," Santana replied grouchily. "_La niña tenía que ser una heroína estúpida! ¿Por qué yo?"_

"Uh… yeah, I got no clue what that last part was, but good luck with that," Puck said. "You want me to drive your car back to your house?"

Begrudgingly, Santana flung her keys to him. "Sure, whatever. _Si usted se lo rasca, voy a rasgar su cojones apagado_," she added in an undertone.

"What does that mean?" he asked suspiciously.

She grinned her evil, sugary sweet smile. "Nothing."

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	4. Chapter 4

4.

When Dr. Lopez had reset the bones in her hand and put it in a splint, and Quinn had enough ibuprofen and naproxen to dull the pain a little, it was easier to control the tears. She was emotionally and physically exhausted, but the way that Brittana were looking at her let her know that she had to give them some explanation sooner or later.

"She hates me," Quinn said when the three girls were finally left alone in Santana's room.

"She doesn't hate you, Q," Brittany objected kindly, lacing her fingers through her girlfriend's. "She's just upset because of the awful things that Cassie and Azimio said to her. They were lying, nothing they said was true."

The hazel-eyed blonde couldn't help but smile at Brittany's innocent and matter-of-fact tone. If more people were like her, the world would be a much nicer and less complicated place.

"No, trust me, Britt. She hates me," Quinn argued gently. Her eyes met Santana's scrutinizing gaze, "She thinks I was the one behind the ambush, that I set her up, that our entire friendship was just some senior scam I came up with."

Santana's eyebrows scrunched together, like she heard the words but didn't understand the meaning of them. "What? But you were with us the whole time," the Latina pointed out. "I mean, we busted in there and defended her, didn't we?" She huffed, "So what did you tell her?"

"That I tried to get to her," Quinn replied downtroddenly.

The Latina's eyebrows nearly rose into her hairline as she erupted, "You _didn't_ use those exact words though, right?" like she really wanted Quinn to confirm that she hadn't.

"Um… yeah, I'm pretty sure I did," the hazel-eyed girl responded. To the looks of exasperation and horror on her friends' respective faces, she added, "What?"

"Q, you told her you _tried to get to her_," Santana emphasized. "So you pretty much confirmed that you were just _trying to get close to her_, so that you could do something like this. Take the hint, Goldie Locks, you said the wrong words to your Bear-ry."

Brittany nodded sadly, and then said, "All we've ever given Rachel were reasons for her to think it _was_ us behind it. We've been mean to her for so long now that Rachy expects us to be up to no good. Maybe it's harder for her to believe we're really her friends now, than it is to believe we made her sad on purpose."

Realization struck Quinn like a freight train. "Oh. My. God. I am so stupid!" she exclaimed ("No arguments here," Santana interjected).

Why _wouldn't_ Rachel take it that way? She didn't know that the reason that Quinn knew about the fight before she arrived on the scene was because Santana had overheard Cassie bragging and had told Quinn. Rachel didn't realize that Quinn's heart had been beating out of her chest as she practically ran toward Rachel, trying to get to her in time to _stop_ Cassie and protect Rachel. And that stupid comment she had made when Azimio outright asked if she was messing with the star, how could Rachel have known Quinn was being completely sarcastic when she confirmed? Azimio was a blockhead, no doubt, but Cassie wasn't as stupid as she seemed and the lowly cheerleader would have played at every doubt and insecurity Rachel had about their new friendship until the petite girl was all but sure that Quinn's only love for her was the love to torture her.

"God, I am _such_ an idiot," Quinn repeated obsessively. She grabbed her jacket and keys and started for the door. "I have to talk to Rachel."

"Q, your hand is broken, you have a cut on your cheek the size of South America, and you have a helluva load of painkillers in you, remember? You look like Jack the freaking Ripper got you," Santana reminded her brusquely as she and Brittany followed Quinn down the stairs of the Lopez home. "Besides, what are you gonna say now that you didn't say before? Tell her how you're actually in love with her?"

The moment the words were out of Santana's mouth, she knew she'd gone too far this time, because now she wasn't playing with meaningless insults; now she was taunting with the truth. The look in her best friend's eyes as Quinn stopped with her hand on the doorknob and looked over her shoulder was enough to _terrify_ 'Jack the freaking Ripper'.

The blonde's head had dropped and she was staring at the ground when she spoke, "I don't know what you're spouting off about now, Santana, but that's ridiculous. Me? In _love_ with Rachel. Ha, as if."

"Don't try to BS me, Q," the Latina shot back. "You can fool a lot of people, but you've never fooled me. And I honestly have –no –fucking –clue –why you haven't told her yet."

Brittany gripped Santana's arm and tried to pull her away before her friends started really going at it. Brittany Pierce, always playing mediator. "San, it's not really any of our business," the blue-eyed blonde told her.

"The hell it isn't," Santana snapped, marching back toward Quinn and dragging Britt with her. Quinn had now turned around and her back was against the door, but she was still holding the knob behind her. Santana's dark eyes brought to mind the old saying, _if looks could kill_. "You mope around about how you can't find real love, blah blah blah, when really… you're just too much of a coward to admit that you're in love with _her_. You're in love with Rachel Berry. This is it, Q, no more hiding behind your image or your baby bump or your Bible or your stupid pink hair or this friendship crap!" Santana finally seemed exhausted of yelling and her tone evened out. "Because you can't hide forever. Whether or not you ever admit it to Rachel, now _that'_s your business but if you ever try to lie to me about it again? I'll kick your ass, because I'm not gonna stand around and watch you lie to yourself the way that I did. Reality sucks, Q, but maybe it's a little easier if you're not going at it alone."

Quinn was crying again, but this time it wasn't about Rachel being _mad_ at her, it was about Quinn being in love with her. "She's happy with Finn, Santana," the blonde croaked out, still looking at the carpet floor of the foyer. "All I want is for her to be happy, to be treated the way she deserves– completely the opposite of how we treated her all those years. The opposite of how Cassie and Azimio made her feel today. I just want to protect her." Quinn finally looked up and drew in a long breath, flicking tear drops from her eyes. "But first I need to get her to talk to me. And maybe someday? If she's single and I still feel the same? Yeah, I'll tell her the truth. But right now all I want is for her to be happy, even if that means hiding behind this 'friendship crap'."

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Tears had been silently leaking from Rachel's eyes for hours now, even after her earth-shaking sobs had subsided. Her fathers were clearly concerned, especially when she wouldn't disclose any information on the event that had made her so inconsolable, but she was sure that by now they had talked to Sam (who had half-carried her broken form into the house afterschool) and gotten the gist of it. Maybe Sam hadn't made Quinn looked half as bad as Rachel would have made the blonde out to be in her fathers' eyes.

Song-writing had been her first coping mechanism, but everything she wrote turned into something like 'Get It Right', where she crooned about how _she_ wasn't good enough, or even more embarrassing, a ballad about unrequited love.

Of course she knew she loved Quinn, this much had been true since first setting eyes on the blonde the first day of freshman year. She could still remember clearly; Quinn had obviously been wearing her Cheerios uniform under a gorgeous pink dress with a pink rose braided into her long, blonde hair which had hung over her shoulder. Rachel even remembered the light lipstick Quinn had worn and the way her summer sun-kissed skin revealed tiny pale freckles.

Quinn was the first and only girl that Rachel had ever had any more-than-friend-type feelings for. Even now, all these years later, after all that Quinn had put her through, she still loved Quinn Fabray as much as she had at first sight. Whether or not she was _in_ love with Quinn remained to be seen, and it didn't matter either way; she was (sort of) with Finn, and Quinn had now proved how little she cared for Rachel.

A knock on her bedroom door halted her thoughts, and a second later, her Dad Hiram's head became visible. "Rachel, honey, Finn is here," he told her cautiously. "Is it alright if he comes in?"

Sighing in resignation, Rachel nodded. Of course Finn would have heard from Puck what had happened and be concerned for her. It wasn't like she could avoid everyone forever, even if she wanted to.

Her lumbering boyfriend stepped into her room, looking at her with an unreadable expression. "I heard about Quinn. You alright?" he asked her cautiously, eyeing her like she might attack him.

Rachel scoffed unintentionally. "Yes. No. Maybe… I don't know," she answered undecidedly. Rachel glanced to her hands in her lap as she perched on the edge of her bed. "It wasn't something I was expecting, you know?"

Now it was Finn's turn to scoff, and he did so unabashedly. "It wasn't?" he asked her in a skeptical tone.

She looked up at him with indignation on her face. "No," she replied curtly. "It was not. I trusted her, I thought she cared about me."

"Rachel, the only person Quinn Fabray cares about is herself!" Finn nearly shouted in exasperation. "I told you before: you can't trust her!"

"That is _not_ true!" Rachel leapt up and shot back at her boyfriend.

"Isn't it?" Finn demanded angrily. Why was Rachel _defending_ Quinn? "She cheated on me, she got knocked up and lied to convince me _I_ was the father, she ditched her kid as soon as she could—"

"Because she loved Beth enough to do what was right for her!" Rachel shouted at him, as if he were deaf or incompetent.

"_Her_?" Finn repeated. "Which 'her' are you talking about, Rachel? Beth? Or Quinn?"

This question left Rachel momentarily stumped before she answered, "Both of them!"

"You're being ridiculous!" Finn spat accusatorially. "Even after what happened with her today, you're still willing to forget about it and defend her! You let her walk all over you, Rachel. She's friendly with you when she wants something, she uses you to get it, and then she shows her real face again. And you fall for it every single time!"

They were both fuming and Rachel was having mob-boss fantasies about calling Santana to 'take care of' Finn Hudson.

Finn shook his head. "I never should have let you be friends with her," he said.

There was a beat of silence in which Rachel could hear blood rushing through her ears and her vision momentarily went red. Then all the hell inside of her broke loose. "You shouldn't have LET ME BE FRIENDS WITH HER?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, FINN? YOU DON'T _LET ME_ DO ANYTHING! _I_ AM MY OWN PERSON AND YOU _DO NOT_ OWN ME!" Her screaming must have been intelligible in New York from how loud she was yelling, and she was blindly throwing objects at Finn.

"Rachel, come on, you know that's not how I meant it," Finn tried to defend himself.

Rachel set the object that she had been about to throw at Finn down and stalked toward him. "No, Finn, you never _mean_ it. You say whatever you want and then take it back and expect me to forgive you, and I do! You expect me to forgive you but you condemn me when I forgive Quinn."

"That's because _I'm_ your fiancé and forgiving Quinn is, like, the stupidest thing you can possibly do," he retaliated. Then he realized the mistake in what he had just said.

"You are _not_ my fiancé," Rachel spoke in an eerily calm voice. "And I am not stupid, I am forgiving, which has been lucky for you, because if I weren't, we might never have been together at all." The brunette girl pulled her bedroom door open and stood aside. "But I am done forgiving you, Finn, and I am done being made to feel like _I_ am the one at fault for _not_ forgiving you on the rare occasions that I am not quick to do so. I cannot remain in a relationship with someone who tries to control me and make me feel guilty for having my own emotions. I'm afraid we are over, Finn. Please respect my decision and leave now."

The incredulity on Finn's face was like nothing Rachel had ever seen before. "You know what?" he exclaimed loudly, throwing his hands up. "Fine. Call me when you can be reasonable about this."

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	5. Chapter 5

5.

It was dark and the air was misty when Quinn finally arrived on the Berry's doorstep, her stomach all in knots. For half a second, she thought about turning back, but then she berated herself for even thinking it. Rachel needed to know as soon as possible that Quinn was on her side, and that required swallowing the enormous terror she was currently drowning in, and knocking on that door.

She raised her hand to knock and then took a half step back, waiting.

The door swung open a moment later and there was Rachel Berry. Her eyes were dark and tired, red-rimmed from crying, and a tad bloodshot, and they regarded Quinn for a moment, as if trying to process the situation. Quinn knew she had when her gaze hardened and the Berry's front door was suddenly slammed in her face.

After standing shocked and still for a moment, Quinn began pounding desperately on the on door again. "Rachel! Rachel, please! Open the door, I need to explain!" She waited, holding her breath and holding out hope that the door would crack open, even a little bit. "Rach, please," she said in a quieter voice. Another moment of waiting passed before Quinn felt more frustrated than even. "Dammit, Rachel, there's something I need to tell you, something you should know so just—"

The door finally swung open to reveal the upset and disappointed countenance of Leroy Berry. His face was stern, but not unkind and held no traces of anger or hate. Actually, he looked like he was about to ground her.

"Quinn," he murmured in a rough, distraught tone of voice.

"Leroy," she returned pleadingly, willing him to see her the way he had always seen her before. "_Please_, I _need_ to talk to Rachel."

The older man looked down at her with a grave expression and said, "Your nose is swollen." Quinn gave him a confused look and he cupped her chin and turned her head from side to side. "Dislocated. Hiram can reset that for you, if you'd like." He stood aside and allowed her to enter the Berry home.

Quinn stepped over the threshold, and suddenly everything felt a little better. The house was warm and welcoming, so different from the house she had grown up in, and the entire interior smelled of Rachel's unique scent: roses, mint, and just a hint of something fruity. Quinn loved the Berry home, almost as much as she loved its inhabitants.

She and Leroy made their way through the entryway, the living room, and to the back of the house where the kitchen was. Hiram was sitting down at the table, reading a _Consumer Reports_ magazine and tapping his foot.

"Does your mother know you're here?" Leroy asked her, not unkindly. Hiram looked up at her with that same look of fatherly concern and admonishment.

_Uh-oh_, Quinn thought, remembering that she had a parent who worried now. She cleared her throat and answered, "No, sir, she doesn't. With everything that's happened. . . I just forgot." Quinn couldn't meet the Berry men's gazes, so she looked down to the tiled floor.

"Quinn," Hiram called her to attention. She looked up at him hesitantly and he looked back at her and continued, "You have a dislocated nose. Rachel didn't do that, did she?"

Quinn nearly laughed, because the thought of Rachel Berry physically harming anyone was such a completely ludicrous concept, and her fathers of all people should have known that. She smiled and shook her head. "No, of course not," she replied, her voice half-offended on Rachel's behalf and partly amused that Hiram would assume this. "The cut and the nose are from the back of Azimio Adams's hand. The broken fingers are from me. . . um, returning the favor." Admitting to punching someone was never an easy thing, especially in a house of pacifists, but Quinn held her gaze with the two men, "How's Rachel's nose and mouth?"

Hiram looked from his husband, who turned toward the phone, and back to Quinn, his gaze softening slightly. He stood up and walked closer to where Quinn stood. "Nothing is broken. She had a nosebleed for quite awhile and her lip is obviously cut and a bit swollen," the doctor explain, while examining Quinn's own crooked nose. "You, on the other hand," he paused, pinched her nose a bit, and firmly set it back in place, "look like you could use a cup of tea and a hot shower."

The pain of having her nose reset made Quinn's eyes water, but she barely whimpered as the sharp, searing pain slowly began to ebb away. Her tolerance for pain had been amazing since giving birth to Beth. _That_ had been painful.

"I didn't set her up, sir," Quinn told him point-blank. "I wouldn't. She's become my best friend. I need to talk to Rachel," Quinn argued, wiping the water from her eyes. She looked earnestly at Leroy Berry. "Please, I hate it when she hates me. It's killing me."

Leroy nodded and gestured with his head to the staircase. "She's in her room. Be careful, she's a fury when she's truly mad."

"Thank you," Quinn told him, hugging him briefly before turning to the staircase, climbing the thirteen steps, and ending up in front of Rachel's bedroom door.

Through the tiny crack between the bottom of the door and the carpeted floor, Quinn could hear Rachel's playlist that she usually listened to when she was angry and dancing off steam. Again, the blonde steeled herself and brought her uninjured fist up to knock loudly on the door.

Abruptly, the music was cut off and Rachel's reply of, "Please, leave me alone," could be heard through the door.

Before Rachel could turn the music back up, Quinn took a deep breath and called back, "I can't."

The sound of the blonde's voice must have caught Rachel off-guard, because for a moment, everything was still. Then the door opened and an angry Rachel was glaring at her as if she could make Quinn disappear by sheer force of will alone. _If looks could kill, I would be _so _dead right now_. The door began to close, but this time Quinn had been anticipating it, and she caught it with her uninjured hand. Rachel stared at her incredulously.

"You stormed off earlier, and I let you because I was too shocked and upset to stop you," Quinn began with slow, deliberate words. She pushed the door open a little more and took a half-step forward. "But I'm not letting you shut me out this time, Rachel." Her gold-green eyes gazed into Rachel's imploringly. "You really have no idea how much you mean to me, do you?"

Rachel crossed her arms defiantly, but let go of the door and took a step back to let Quinn enter. "If I meant so much to, then why did you get close to me only to torment me further?" the brunette demanded, eyes flicking between Quinn and the floor.

"Not 'meant', Rachel, you 'mean' so much to me. Present tense," Quinn corrected her. "And I didn't. I had no clue until Santana overheard a younger Cheerio talking about it, and came and told me."

Rachel shook her head, obviously fighting not to believe Quinn. "You admitted it," she argued, looking purposefully at the wood floor. "You confessed that you were trying to get to me, that you were only my friend to gain my trust so that you could hurt me."

Quinn took two hurried steps forward, until Rachel backed away and Quinn stilled in disappointment. "Rachel, when I told you that I was trying to get to you, I didn't mean emotionally. After Santana and Brittany came barging into my shower to tell me what was going on, I was physically racing to get to you before Cassie and her bitch-brigade did; to make sure nothing happened to you.  
"And then I made that, admittedly stupid, _sarcastic_ remark to Azimio. I was angry at him and at Cassie, and, you know me; when I get angry, I get sarcastic, and I don't mean the things I say." Quinn chanced another step forward and, when Rachel didn't back away this time, she stretched her hand out and waited for Rachel to take it. "I could _never_ hurt you like that. Even when I thought I hated you, I never sank that low. I did a lot of really terrible things to you, Rachel, and I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it right with you; but you're. . . _you_, and I could never do something like that to you."

There was a teariness to Rachel's voice when she spoke, still not looking at Quinn. "Yeah, I'm _me_. The hideous 'queen of the freaks' with more confidence than actual talent, who talks too much for someone that no one wants to listen to—"

"Shut up," Quinn snapped, "don't you _ever_ talk about yourself that way, Rachel Berry, or so help me God. . ." Putting her hands at the back of her head and taking calming breaths, Quinn could feel Rachel's eyes on her before she turned back around to face the brunette. "It took me a long time the figure something out, almost too long."

"And what was that?" Rachel demanded begrudgingly.

There was a tender admiration in Quinn's eyes as she stared back at her best friend. "You," the blonde answered simply. "I spent so long absorbed in myself and my image and popularity, all the things I thought I wanted, that I almost didn't see what really mattered, the thing that I needed most– someone like you."

Quinn finally took Rachel's hand and Rachel didn't pull away. In all honesty, Quinn was pretty sure that the brunette was too stunned to move. As long as Rachel was listening, though, that was fine by Quinn.

"You. . . Rachel, you believed in me, believed that I could make it out of Lima and _be_ someone. You're always pushing me to do the right thing. You cared about me even when I treated you like nothing. You understand me better than _I_ understand me most of the time." Quinn's speech was rewarded with a tiny, reluctant smile from Rachel, and she held onto that, like a drowning man would hold onto a life preserver.

She reached out her other hand, momentarily forgetting that it was in a brace, and pushed some hair from Rachel's tired face. The brunette's warm skin felt even better when the girl leaned into Quinn's touch and closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"And, about what Cassie and Azimio said," Quinn released a bitter scoff, as her eyes watched Rachel's now peaceful countenance. "I _love_ listening to you talk, I always listen. Yeah, you ramble on sometimes, but it's actually kind of endearing. You have a lot of really interesting things to say."  
The blonde smiled as Rachel's eyes opened to look at her as she spoke. "Rachel," Quinn chuckled, "there's nobody else like you. You're energetic and bubbly and straight-forward and a little weird sometimes, but that's what makes you who you are. And this confidence that you have? This pride and self-assuredness you hold in your talent? People are jealous of it; I would know, I used to be jealous of it too. You _know_ how incredible you are and you go after that, Rach. Most people only _wish_ that they could have what you have."

Rachel blinked slowly a few times, staring at Quinn with wide-eyes. "I don't always feel that way, though," she replied in a soft monotone.

"Maybe not," Quinn shrugged, "but there's a difference between what you _know_ and what you _feel_. You know you're amazing, even if you don't feel like it sometimes." She pulled one leg onto Rachel's bed and tucked it under the knee that still dangled off the edge. Her eyes focused on the duvet as she added, "I never should have tried to make you believe you were anything less than the amazing person you are."

They passed in a moment of silence, and then a shrieking gasp suddenly pierced the air in the room.

Quinn looked up in alarm. "What?" she asked in panic. She took Rachel's horrified face in both of her hands. "What, Rachel? What's wrong?"

Rachel brought one of Quinn's hands down from her face. And cradled it between her own hands— the injured one. She looked between the blonde's guilty face and the broken hand several times, and it would have been comical to both of them had they been watching from the outside.

"Oh my Barbra," Rachel breathed in a terrified tone that matched her face. "What the hell did they do to you?"

Panicked, Quinn tried to play it off by teasing, "Did Rachel Berry just swear out loud?" The blonde shifted uncomfortably under Rachel's scrutiny.

"Quinn," Rachel coaxed more calmly, "what happened to your hand? I want to know."

As she picked at Rachel's pale pink comforter, Quinn thought about how to answer her friend's question. She scanned Rachel's imploring gaze and, of its own accord, her uninjured hand rose to skim her fingers across the dark bruises covering Rachel's cheek and nose and she softly ran her thumb over Rachel's split lip. Anger reared its ugly head inside of Quinn yet again; she _was_ going to get Azimio and Cassie back for hurting her best friend, after she was done berating Puck for taking the bait and inadvertently injuring Rachel.

"It's nothing, Rach," Quinn assured her, pushing dark tresses from Rachel's shoulders. "Nothing compared to what they did to you. What _I_ have done to you in the past."

"I think karma has more than paid you back, Q," the brunette replied, laughing breathily. Her face became more somber. "But you made it through." Rachel looked down incredulously, "I can't believe I doubted you so quickly. Quinn, I'm so sorry."

Quinn shook her head and leaned forward to hug Rachel tightly. "Don't be. It's like Brittany said to me, I've given you so many reasons to believe that I would do that to you," Quinn replied. "But I'm never going to hurt you again, at least not intentionally." She drew back and lightly tapped Rachel's nose, causing the other girl to wince and then grin. "Seeing you smile is _so_ much better than watching you cry."

Rachel slumped forward, allowing her head to rest on the leg that Quinn had pulled up onto the bed. They were silent; Quinn combed her fingers through Rachel's hair as the brunette thought. It wasn't until Rachel began shaking and Quinn felt a dampness of her jeans against her leg, that the serenity was shattered.

"What's wrong?" Quinn asked quietly.

"I broke up with Finn," Rachel whispered tearily, wiping her cheeks.

Quinn sighed and pulled Rachel up and wrapped her arm around her friend's shoulders, tucking the brunette's head under her chin. "Okay," the blonde whispered gently to her, at a loss for any other words.

"Where am I going to find another person to love me like he did?" the smaller girl sobbed. Rachel gripped the material of Quinn's shirt where it clung to her shoulder. "I don't want to be alone, Quinn."

"I'll never let you be alone, Rachel," Quinn told her sincerely. "I promise."

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	6. Chapter 6

6.

Monday morning came too quickly for Quinn's liking. Her weekend had been wonderfully anti-climatic and lazy after making up with Rachel, and Quinn was happy for the reprieve. She spent the weekend doing homework and talking and walking in the park and driving around Lima with her best friend; but now the real trial was beginning, and Quinn wasn't sure if Rachel could handle it.

"Quinn?" Rachel's voice called to her. "Is everything okay?"

She turned her head to meet Rachel's hazelnut gaze, much closer than she had expected, and Quinn suddenly realized that the two had arrived in the McKinley parking lot and Rachel had cut her engine already. She shook her blonde head, trying to clear it of her distressed thoughts, and pulled a semi-convincing smile onto her face.

"Yeah, I'm great!" she returned, a little _too_ enthusiastically. Quinn silently cursed herself; this was Rachel she was talking to, and Rachel knew her much better than that. The diva wouldn't buy it for a second.

Low and behold, the brunette pressed her pouty lips into a hard line, only serving to make the cut on her lower one more prominent than ever. "Quinn, you're lying to me," Rachel stated in clipped tones. "If you don't want to talk about whatever is bothering you, that is fine; but lying to me is unacceptable." Rachel made a quick move to get out of her car, muttering, "Lock the doors when you get out," as she stormed off.

Quinn allowed her head to fall back against the headrest of her seat and sighed. No one had ever said that loving Rachel Berry would be easy; in fact, she had known from the get-go that it would be one of the hardest things she would ever do. She had just never thought it would be _this hard_.

Pulling herself from the car and locking the doors behind her as Rachel had instructed, Quinn made her way toward the school entrance. It was eight-a.m. and she was already developing a headache. She was almost to the steps where hell had broken loose on Friday, when someone suddenly stepped into her path, forcing her to stop abruptly.

She looked up, expecting Azimio or Cassie, or even Santana or Puck. What she got instead was a shock, which quickly transformed into anger. She glowered up at the boy with a growl of, "Finn, you're in my way. Move."

"Stay away from Rachel," the boy said in return. He glared down at her with more contempt than she had the energy to muster today.

"No," she shot back, then tried to push past him.

He stepped in her way again. "She can't handle it anymore, Quinn. Everyone knows how you really feel about her, but you're not good for her; you're the only one who won't face reality," Finn argued, getting more frustrated now than ever. "You're bad for her, Quinn. You can't help but hurt her over and over again. She always ends up feeling unhappy and bad about herself whenever you get involved."

Quinn stood shell shocked. "She said that?" Quinn asked, feeling her heart suddenly shatter like glass. "But. . . Friday night. . . and this weekend . . " Everyone knew she was in love with Rachel. Rachel always felt hurt and unhappy where Quinn was involved. Rachel couldn't handle being her friend anymore.

"She was upset about our fight, and then youshowed up at her house, and gave her a self-esteem boost, trying to get her to forgive you," Finn explained. "You told her all the things that she wanted to hear. She was probably vulnerable and she needed somebody. Anybody. And you were there.  
"Friday was kind of the last straw for her, Quinn, and she's tired of fighting. She feels like too much has happened for her to be able to forgive and forget and learn to trust you, and it's all about trust with Rachel."

The blonde crossed her arms and stood her ground, still trying to believe that Rachel didn't really feel this way. "Really? Then why didn't she just tell me all of this herself on the ride to school this morning?" she demanded, fighting to keep her tears back.

Finn's gaze softened. "Because she's Rachel, and she can't stand to see anyone hurt, especially because of her. Even if she knows that the two of you can never be friends, that doesn't mean she wants to hurt you. She's not mean. Look, if you care about her, you'll just back off and let her be. Don't make it harder than it has to be, Quinn."

As Finn began walking off, Quinn called back, "How did you know how I feel about Rachel?"

The tall boy turned back to look at her for a moment. "Friends can betray you sometimes," he replied simply.

As soon as Finn was out of sight, Quinn ran like hell, not even knowing her destination until she reached the door that led directly into the auditorium. She picked the lock, with what would have been ease had her tears not obstructed her vision, and pried the door open.

When she was inside, she hurled her bag angrily somewhere in the seats. Quinn's feet echoed loudly as she pounded up the steps to the stage, grabbing her iPod from her pocket, scrolling through her list to select a song and jamming it onto the outlet on the sound system.

Quinn did the one thing she had enough heart left to do- she opened her mouth, and sang.

_"You, you got me  
Thinking it'll be alright.  
You, you told me,  
"Come and take a look inside."  
You believed me,  
In every single lie.  
But I, I failed you this time._

I was waiting  
For the day you'd come around.  
I was chasing,  
And nothing was all I found.  
From the moment you came into my life,  
You showed me what's right.

And it feels like tonight.  
I can't believe I'm broken inside.  
Can't you see that there's nothing that I wanna do,  
But try to make it up to you?  
And it feels like tonight.

I never felt like this before.  
Just when I leave, I'm back for more.  
Nothing else here seems to matter.  
In these ever-changing days,  
You're the one thing that remains.  
I could stay like this forever.

And it feels like tonight.  
I can't believe I'm broken inside.  
Can't you see that there's nothing that I wanna do,  
But try to make it up to you?  
And it feels like tonight.  
Tonight.  
Tonight."

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	7. Chapter 7

7.

Santana's locker door slammed closed suddenly, causing her to jump involuntarily. She turned to her left to regard her angry best friend. "What the hell, Q?" she demanded, gesturing with the lip gloss she had been applying in her locker mirror.

"Why would you tell anyone, Santana?" Quinn fired, half-stepping in Santana's direction and looking about the same as she had during their catfight a few years ago.

Santana recapped her gloss and tucked it into her bag before giving her best friend her full attention. "Okay. First of all? You needs to chill the fuck out, Fabray. Secondly, what the hell are you on about?"

Quinn stepped forward again, so that she was right in Santana's face. "Don't play games with me, Santana, we're getting a little too old for that, don't you think? Just tell me why the hell you told Finn about-" Quinn cut off, looking around the hallway at the spectators who all looked hungry for a fight. She looked back to the Latina and grabbed her wrist roughly.

They marched down the hallway, Quinn dragging Santana by the wrist, until they reached the choir room. Quinn slammed the door behind them, and promptly locked it before spinning back to the other Cheerio. She crossed her arms over her chest in her best HBIC stance.

"Why did you tell Finn about my feelings for Rachel?" Quinn demanded.

"And, yet again, what- the hell- are you talking about, Fabray?" Santana demanded, no amount of anger or venom in her voice. "Why would you even think that I would tell Finnept about that? You think I don't get why you wanna keep it a secret, Q? Reality check! I've been in your shoes, and I wouldn't do to my worst enemy what Hudson did to me, let alone my best friend."

Quinn took a horrified step back, noting the sincerity in Santana's tone. She had known Santana since the summer before freshman year, and she knew when Santana was lying. Right now, Santana wasn't lying, and that suddenly made things even worse.

"You didn't tell him," Quinn stated in a strained voice, eyes glassy and still wide with horror.

"Duh!" Santana snapped in response. "That's what I've been trying to tell you, Blondie. Don't look so shocked." The Latina huffed and tried to walk past Quinn to exit the room, but Quinn caught her wrist an stopped her. "What now?"

Regarding Santana with large gold-green eyes, Quinn answered, "San, if _you_ didn't tell Finn. . . then who _did_?"

Santana's mouth dropped open. "Oh shit."

Quinn nodded numbly in response.

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	8. Chapter 8

8.

Staying out of Rachel's way for two days had been pure, undiluted torture for Quinn, but she had respected the girl's wishes. Even when every molecule in her body had screamed at her to run and tell Rachel the truth, to confront her about what Finn had relayed. It was starting to wear heavily on her mood.

"She's staring at you again, Q," Santana informed her imperiously from their table in the cafeteria. "Kind of weird to be staring at someone you don't want in your life, especially like _that_."

"Drop it, Santana," Quinn said in a monotone. "You've made your opinion abundantly clear, alright? But you're wrong, if Rachel wanted to talk to me, she would have by now. I'm not going to force her to talk to me if she doesn't want to talk to me."

"Britt, what do _you_ think about the way Berry's _gazing_ after Q right now?" Santana asked her girlfriend, forcing Quinn into a corner.

The naïve blonde looked up from her fruit salad at Rachel, who immediately looked away with a blush on her cheeks at being caught staring. "She's making googley eyes, like Sam makes at Mercedes or Tina makes at Mike," the blonde answered impartially.

"Dammit! What the hell will it take to make you shut the hell up, Santana?!" Quinn yelled, causing the entire cafeteria to become suddenly silent and attentive. The blonde stood up from her seat quickly and leaned across the table, glaring daggers at her Hispanic friend. "Just back off, okay? It's over. I've been put into my place, now leave it alone."

Quinn wheeled around, threw her bag haphazardly over her shoulder and exited the lunch room exuding rage. People in the hallways cowered at her wrathful look and commandeering gait, students parted like the red sea, just as they had two years ago.

Then it hit Quinn like a load of bricks. She saw a flash of a figure wearing a ratted, black tee and dark cargo pants with hanging chains; and she knew who had let Finn in on her secret.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

Rachel's heart hurt as she watched Quinn avoid her gaze over the next couple of days. She had thought everything was fine, that they were back to themselves and Quinn wouldn't leave her alone again, but she had been sorely mistaken. Every time she saw Quinn, Rachel's stomach knotted and she wanted to vomit.

Which was exactly what had her in the bathroom following a lunch period where Quinn had stormed off to God-knows-where.

"Berry, listen, we gotta—" Santana's voice echoed throughout the second-floor women's restroom, but her voice was abruptly cut off when she heard the guttural noises issuing from the room. The Latina rapped lightly on the door of the stall Rachel had locked herself into. "Hey, hobbs, unlock the door, a'ight?"

The tiny girl reached back weakly and slid the lock open just as another wave of nausea hit her. She felt hesitant fingers thread through her hair, and, for a brief moment, she thought Santana might be planning on dragging her from the bathroom by her brunette locks. But then the hair got pulled gently to the back of her head and held there until her stomach stopped heaving.

Santana left long enough to grab some paper towels and wet them, before turning back to hand them to Rachel and crouched down to eye-level with her again. "You sick or. . .?"

Rachel pulled in a shaky breath and held it, only releasing it when her tears overwhelmed her. "Quinn hates me," she whispered brokenly. The diva shook her head and let out a bitter laugh. "I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this."

"Come on." Santana gripped Rachel's arm and helped her to stand on her shaky legs and move over to the sink. More paper towels were run under cool water and wiped across Rachel's clammy face.

"Why are you being nice to me, Santana?" Rachel asked brusquely.

" 'Cause Q would kill me if she knew I let you suffer like this alone, and so would Britt, for that matter," Santana answered simply, continuing to run cool water over Rachel's flushed cheeks. "Besides, I guess you don't make me hate you all the time now. Or something."

"Why would Quinn care if you left me like this?" Rachel demanded petulantly. Her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes hardened, creating a physical and psychological barrier between herself and the Cheerio. "Quinn's made it perfectly clear-"

"Shut up, before you say something stupid about something you obviously know nothing about, alright?" Santana snapped, finally losing her cool even for a moment. She took a deep breath to calm and collect herself. "Look, Q's hurt too, okay? She never intended for you to find out about her feelings for you. And if you didn't want her back in your life because of her girl-crush on you, you shoulda told her yourself, instead of sending Finnept to tell her to back the hell off—"

Rachel stepped back, out of Santana's reach, and caught the girl's paper towel-holding hand in her own. Her eyes reflected pure confusion. "What are you talking about?"

Santana's brows knitted together. "What do you mean 'what am I talking about'? You sent Hudson to tell Quinn that you're done with her," the Latina said with uncertainty. ". . . Didn't you?"

Visibly deflating, Rachel took a step back, holding her stomach and folding in on herself. She wasn't sure what to contend with first: Finn's invasive manipulation (was he even capable of being manipulative?), the fact that Quinn believed Rachel didn't want her after all that had transpired over the past weekend, or that Quinn (Quinn Fabray!) apparently had a 'girl-crush' on her.

The Cheerio watched her carefully, trying to figure out just what the hell was going down right now. "Holy shit, you had no clue," she realized aloud. Santana circled Rachel so the two girls were face to face again. "You didn't have a clue that Q. . .?" Santana stood up straight and her eyes widened, "God damn, Quinn's gotta _kill_ me, when she finds out you heard it from me!"

"No," Rachel said blankly.

More confused than ever, Santana questioningly repeated, "No?" _What the fuck is Berry on about now?_

Rachel's brown eyes blinked like a sleepy child's as her gaze met Santana's darker one. "Quinn isn't. . .. She doesn't. . . I mean, she's not. . .." Rachel sighed. "She's _Quinn Fabray_, for Barbra's sake! She's the former head-cheerio, president of the God Squad, devout Christian girl." Rachel's gaze that was locked with Santana's saddened before she dropped her head. "As much as I would like to believe you, Santana, it's just not possible for Quinn Fabray to have any more-than-platonic feelings for me. She's the straightest person I've ever met."

Santana fixed her with an impatient, skeptical stare. "Look, Berry, I know this is a whole hell of a lot to process, but I'm still kind of stuck on the part where you had no clue that your boy-toy was tellin' Q to back up off you."

In less than a second, Rachel's dazed denial was gone and her face turned furious. "Ooh!" she shrieked in anger, "When I get my hands on that boy. . ." Again, Rachel's emotions flipped like a switch and her eyes were suddenly pained and horrified as she looked at Santana.  
"Oh my God, Santana. Quinn! She thinks that I hate her, that I don't want her. . .. That's why she's been avoiding me all week, isn't it? I really am going to kill Finn." She grabbed Santana's wrist and began dragging her from the lavatory, "But first, we need to find Quinn and explain."

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	10. Chapter 10

10.

Quinn stood there, glaring Mackenzie in the eye defiantly. It was three-on-one, but Quinn wasn't afraid of these girls, even if the odds did look pretty bleak for her going by their matching smirks and threatening stances.

"Why? Huh? Why'd you tell Hudson about Rachel?" she asked them, the rational part of her brain telling her that tantalizing these three was not a good idea. "What did you have to gain from it?"

"You really thought you could ditch us that easily? Like hell, Fabray," Mack snapped at the blonde viciously. The Mack pushed herself off of the metal frame that she'd been leaning against.

The three of them laughed simultaneously, creating a timbre effect as their sniggers reverberated under the metal bleachers. "Think again, sunshine."

Quinn put her very best HBIC mask back into place and stepped toward them, her heels clicking against the tarmac with a confidence she didn't actually feel. "So. . . what? I ditched you, so you're trying to get Rachel to ditch me?" she prompted. She smirked condescendingly, "Good luck with that."

Her smug smirk was wiped off instantly a second later as the sound of solid bone and muscle hitting soft skin echoed through the frame of the aluminum stands. Quinn felt the sting and burn of the punch, staggered only slightly, and then stood up straight again, which was a bad move.

Ronnie shoved her from behind, and she slammed into Sheila, who then shoved her into The Mack. Then suddenly, her world did a complete one-eighty and she was on her back on the ground, looking up at the network of shining support beams. A weight settled on her lower abdomen and Mack's face came into her vision, the girl straddled her with a disgusting sneer on her face.

One of The Mack's hands gripped her jaw tightly, pressing her thumbnail into where she had punched Quinn. "Remember this, Princess? Sure, you do. This summer . . ." Mack's fingers expertly undid a few buttons and pushed aside the fabric of Quinn's blouse. "You and me. We figured shit out together, didn't we? I helped you relieve some of that. . ."—A fire glinted in Mackenzie's dark eyes as she suddenly grabbed the apex of Quinn's legs and squeezed—"_ tension_ you'd been carrying around."

At that moment, Quinn decided to try and fight back, but Mackenzie was strong and had the upper-hand on her. "Screw you, Mackenzie," she spat at the girl.

"Oh, you did, and you loved it, didn't you? But we thought everyone else finding out wouldn't damage you nearly enough, would it girls? No, because you don't care about your reputation anymore." She looked over her shoulder at Ronnie and Sheila.

"Golden boy was real interested in what we had to tell him," Ronnie stated evilly.

The Mack returned her wicked gaze back to Quinn. "So, we thought, wouldn't it be _much_ worse if that uptight freak-show with a mile-wide ego and a mouth to match. . . were to find out that _she_ was starring in all your dirty little lesbo fantasies?" Mack sat back up smiling at her mirthlessly, "Huh? Wouldn't that just _suck_, in all the wrong ways?"

Quinn's eyes widened. "Leave her out of it!" she growled forcefully. She lifted her arm from where The Mack had it pinned at her side and twisted it enough to make Mack let go of her in pain, before drawing back and punching Mackenzie the hell off of her.

But as Mackenzie sprawled across the ground, Quinn felt hands on the collar of her shirt turn her over and slam her back down onto the pavement, then Mack was back again.

"Hey!" Another distant voice called out, one that sounded familiar in Quinn's dazed mind.

"Listen up, Princess," Mack growled, "Your secret is _coming out_ and we're gonna enjoy sitting back and watching you find out how your little _friend_ feels, knowing just _how much_ fun you had this summer,"—the Mack's voice boomed louder with malevolent enjoyment—"how you loved screaming out her name as you came undone."

Mackenzie got off of her voluntarily then, but Quinn's vision was still fuzzy from hitting her head so hard on the asphalt. Stars and spots construed her sight as she struggled to stand up.

"Well well well, what's all this?" she heard Mack taunt.

When Quinn's sight cleared enough for her to see, she was met with the image of Rachel and Santana. The Mack's smug antagonizing didn't last long, as Rachel strode threateningly toward the clique with such fearlessness that they all retreated a half-step back despite the height advantage they had on her.

"Leave- my Quinn- the hell- alone," Rachel put simply in clipped tones. "Nothing you do to her could possibly make the three of you look like anything more than the self-loathing, useless, hateful people that you are."

Santana snapped back into Head Bitch-mode and walked threateningly toward the group to stand beside Rachel.

"You little-," Ronnie hissed at Rachel, moving toward her menacingly.

"Leave her alone!" Quinn yelled, summoning the strength to rise to her feet and join her friends. Santana caught one side of her as her state of disoriented vertigo made it difficult to walk straight. She managed to glare at The Skanks, "Back off of my friends, they've got nothing to do with this."

The Mack grinned maniacally. "Oh, she"- Mack glanced to Rachel- "has _everything_ to do with this. Just remember, Q, you're the same ice queen you always were; everything you touch turns cold. You're just as destructive as ever."

"Go screw yourself, _The Mack_," Santana shot at the girl.

Fire glinted in Mackenzie's eyes and she smiled maliciously as she said, "Oh, but Quinn does it _so_ much better."

Santana stumbled in her stubborn retorts for a moment, seeing Rachel's face crumple momentarily at Mackenzie's comment before the little girl composed herself.

The weakness that Rachel had shown was gone in less than a second as her feet moved forward and her fist connected with Mackenzie's face so hard that the girl was knocked onto her butt on the pavement. Rachel turned on her heel then, and slipped her arm around Quinn's waist.

Moving both herself and Quinn, Santana turned and started toward her car in the parking lot. "We're not going back to class today, Q. Pretty sure you're concussed."

When the three reached Santana's car, the Latina opened the passenger side door and she and Rachel gently helped Quinn to sit there. Quinn's head was throbbing, she was dizzy, and she kept biting back nausea. In other words, Santana might have been onto something with her 'concussed' theory.

She just sat there, feet still outside of the car, planted firmly on the pavement, and head resting against the doorjamb. The world spun around her in vibrant colors and fuzzy shapes, everything unclear and out of focus as she tried to keep herself awake. The silence from her friends was not helping this in the slightest.

"Q." She suddenly felt Santana's hand on her knee, and she forced her vision to focus on her best friend. Santana was knelt down and looking eye-to-eye with her as she finished, "I gotta go ask Chang if he can give Britt a ride home after school today, alright? I wanna take you to Lima Gen so my dad can check you out."

Quinn tried to nod, but that made the queasy feeling in her stomach worse, so she croaked out a "Yeah".

Santana left then, sending Rachel a meaningful look that clearly said 'keep an eye on her'. Rachel sat down next to Quinn, on the floor of Santana's passenger side, with her feet resting outside the car as well. She reached over timidly and rubbed Quinn's back, trying to reassure and comfort both the blonde and herself.

"Rachel, I'm so sorry. . ." Quinn tried to say, but her voice was weak and Rachel wasn't looking for an apology anyway.

"No, Quinn, it's okay. I understand now, why you've been ignoring me all week," she returned softly. All she wanted to do now was hold Quinn until they both felt better and the rest of the world ebbed away.

"I should've gone to you first, confronted you with what Finn said, but I was scared," the injured girl murmured, her words running together but still somehow intelligible to Rachel.

"You were scared of confronting _me_, but not those Skanks?" the diva questioned incredulously. She grabbed one of Quinn's hands and kissed the back of it discreetly.

Quinn used the hand that Rachel held to pull her up and sit the tiny diva across her lap, so that they could still look at each other.  
"I was afraid you would reject me," she clarified in her slurred voice. "I was scared that what Finn told me was true, that you didn't want me. Because I'm so damaged and all I do is hurt you. Because I care more about you more than I probably should, more than you want me to, more than you could ever care about me."

Rachel pushed Quinn's hair away from her hazel eyes and heart-shaped face. "Ssh," she hushed her best friend. "No, Quinn. No. There's so much that you don't know, so much that we'll talk about when your mind isn't quite so scrambled." She hugged Quinn tightly, secretly placing affectionate kisses in her gorgeous blonde hair.

"I love you, Rachel," Quinn murmured drowsily. "Thank you, for being my best friend. I'm so sorry I doubted you."

"None of it matters-"

"No, _you_ matter," Quinn interrupted her. "You matter. . ."

Rachel clasped Quinn's face between her two hands. "Quinn, sweetheart, you can't go to sleep," she told her in a loud voice. "Wake up, you have to stay awake, sweetie. You can't go to sleep."

" 'M so tired though," Quinn complained not unjustly; the darkness was closing in on her and she was helpless to stop it.


	11. Chapter 11

11.

"I don't think I've ever been that scared before."

"Yeah, I could tell from all the shrieking. Surprised you didn't raise the dead."

"Well, it didn't wake Quinn, so it really couldn't have been all that loud."

"My ears are still ringing. I need a drink."

The hushed murmurings of her friends caused Quinn to stir, but everything was still muddled and foggy. She couldn't make out very much, just that something soothingly cool kept being applied to her forehead and she was laying down on a soft surface. She heard footsteps leaving the room, and she slowly forced her eyes open.

She was in her room, laying on her bed and Rachel was sitting on the mattress beside her, running a cool cloth over her face. Her head hurt like hell, but Rachel's soft strokes with the cold, damp compress relieved some of the pain. A part of Quinn didn't want to alert Rachel to the fact that she was awake, but the bigger part of her didn't want to worry her best friend for any longer than necessary.

Rachel suddenly looked into Quinn's face to see her hazel eyes were open and she smiled softly. "Hi," she spoke in a quiet voice. The brunette's free hand reached out to tuck some of Quinn's hair behind her ear. "How are you feeling?"

Quinn shuffled to sit up, her head still feeling a little dizzy, but Rachel was there to help her. "I'm, um, well, I've had worse days," she admitted.

"You scared all of us. Your mom has been _so_ worried, Quinn," Rachel informed her. "She's on the phone with my dad right now, but she'll probably be giving you the third-degree as soon as she comes back."

"Great," the blonde groaned. "Because this day couldn't possibly get any worse." Rachel looked down, like she did when she felt awkward about something and Quinn felt the sinking sensation in her stomach. "How much have you figured out?" Quinn asked hoarsely, scared to hear Rachel's answer.

Rachel looked up shyly, but didn't placed her hand in Quinn's grasp. "We shouldn't talk about this now. You still have a concussion and–"

"I'm lucid," Quinn broke in. "Rachel, how much?" she asked sternly.

Rachel hesitated and bit her lip. "First of all, you should know that it wasn't Santana's fault. She was only trying to defend you and she didn't know any more than what you did at the time," she began.

Quinn groaned and looked up at her ceiling, refusing to meet Rachel's stare. "You know what Finn had on me then. The reason why I thought that you didn't want to have anything to do with me."

"Yes, and, for what it's worth, Quinn, his account of my reaction is by and far completely fabricated. I had no idea about any of it until Santana and I realized that you and I were being played against one another. Once this discovery had been made, we immediately went to find you," Rachel explained.

"And you found me with the Skanks," Quinn surmised. "And how much of _that_ did you see?"

Rachel flinched. "Santana and I were coming across the parking lot when we saw them shoving you between them," she went on. "Santana yelled, but we were still too far away . . . That despicable girl '_The Mack_' . . . she . . . climbed on top of you." Rachel paused, swallowing hard, and when she continued speaking, Quinn could hear the tears in her voice, "The way she . . . touched you, the way she . . . _grabbed _you . . ." Rachel hesitantly put her hand lightly on Quinn thigh, "I started running and Santana followed me. The Mack taunted you, and you told her to leave me out of it . . ."

Quinn gritted her teeth and turned her head away from Rachel. Shame burned in the blush on her cheeks and in the tears that streamed down her face. She tried to breathe in without sobbing but a dry choke erupted from her throat.

Rachel stood, and for a moment, Quinn thought that the brunette was about to walk out her bedroom door and never come back, but then Rachel closed the door. She turned and walked back to Quinn's bed, sitting closer to the blonde than ever at that point. She lifted Quinn's calves and sat down, pulling Quinn's legs across her lap and rubbing them soothingly.

"What happened this summer, Quinn? You dropped out of contact with everyone and then you came back at the beginning of the year with pink hair and a Ryan Seacrest tattoo and your eyes were more desperate and helpless than I'd ever seen them and you were running around with those horrid girls," Rachel remembered. "Then that vulgar Mackenzie girl makes a remark about you and her . . ." Rachel couldn't even seem to finish. "Just tell me, Quinn. I'll never judge you, but tell me, is there any truth to what she said?"

Quinn couldn't answer. Her throat closed up and her chest constricted and her eyes filled with tears. She had made a stupid mistake, and been foolish enough to think that she could leave it behind her and write it off as part of her rebellious stage. She had never counted on Rachel finding out, much less in the way that she had. She couldn't answer Rachel, so she cried. She cried and cried, and tried to pull physically away from her best friend, but Rachel had her legs in a death grip and wasn't allowing Quinn to escape.

"Quinn, it's okay. It's okay," Rachel shushed her.

"No, it's not!" Quinn screamed, feeling cornered and trapped with no way out. "Rachel, let me go! Let go of me!" She fought to free her legs, but the harder she kicked, the harder Rachel held on.

"No! Quinn, stop! Stop, okay? It's okay!" Rachel tried to tell her, but Quinn was a lot stronger than she looked and Rachel was growing tired of fighting her. "Dammit, Quinn! Just talk to me! That's all I want, alright?!"

As Quinn continued to struggle relentlessly, Rachel thought of only one thing, short of slapping the blonde, that might halt Quinn's actions. In the blink of an eye, Rachel had pounced on Quinn, grabbing the blonde's wrists and pinning them above her head as she found herself practically nose-to-nose on top of her best friend. Without a second's hesitation, Rachel's actions received their desired effect and Quinn went rigid and motionless under Rachel's body. Shocked golden eyes bore into brown for a moment.

"Rachel," Quinn said, her voice tense and barely above a breath, "what are you doing?"

"Successfully catching you off-guard evidently," Rachel returned with a smirk. "If I had known that this was all it took to get you to stop fighting me, I would have tried it years ago."

"Rachel–"

"Just _talk_ to me, Quinn," Rachel pleaded. "I just want you to talk to me about this, because it's obviously upsetting you and I hate seeing the person I love upset, Quinn. 'Seeing you smile is so much better than watching you cry', remember? That goes both ways. So just tell me . . . what happened this summer?"

Tears leaked from Quinn's eyes as she shook her head. "I can't," she cried, her voice breaking. "Rachel, I can't talk to you about this."

"You can talk to me about anything, Quinn," Rachel told her. She took a deep breath, looking down into Quinn's eyes and suddenly wishing that this position she had over Quinn was being spent doing something more enjoyable. "Look, I'll start with what I've gathered, okay? All you have to do is fill in the blanks for me."

Quinn shook her head. "No," she sobbed, "no no, no."

Rachel took a deep breath, rubbing her thumbs over the Quinn's inner wrists soothingly as she began. "You started questioning yourself, the way that you feel, who you really were. You thought you couldn't go to anyone who knew you, anyone who cared about you . . . because their opinions mattered to you, and you didn't want to hear their judgments." As Quinn's body-wracking sobs subsided, Rachel cautiously removed her hands from Quinn's wrists to the blonde's cheeks. "You didn't want to let people hurt you anymore. So you found a group of people who didn't care who you were or what you did, and you experimented because you thought . . . because you were curious? Which is normal, by the way. As your friend, I think it's my job to tell you that sexual curiosity isn't out of the ordinary," Rachel said matter-of-factly.

"It wasn't that I was curious, it was _what_ I was curious about," Quinn said, her voice coming out in little puffs as she tried to calm herself down.

"Sexual identity, and again, that's perfectly normal," Rachel said. She looked at Quinn, "But you knew about Santana and Brittany, so you knew that. No, it wasn't even _what_ you were curious about, Quinn. It was _whom_." Rachel's body relaxed from its restraining posture, and she leaned forward until her forehead was resting on against Quinn's. "It was . . . it was _me_, right? You knew that if you told anyone in glee club about this, sooner or later it _all_ of us would know, and you didn't want it getting around to me, even though everyone knows that I'm always the last person to find out anything."

Rachel smiled. "And, again as your friend, I think I should tell you that I would have been . . . _elated_ to be the one you felt curious for. I still am." Rachel bit her lip and checked over her shoulder for Santana or Judy, before leaning in and pressing a lingering kiss to Quinn's cheek. "Quinn, you should _never_ feel like you have to hide things from me. If you had been up front with me about all of this from the beginning, I could have saved you the concussion and just told you that I feel the same. Now, if I get off of you, can we still have a sensible discussion about this?"

Quinn shook her head. "No, I don't think we can," she whispered.

Rachel frowned, her brow furrowing in consternation. "Why not?"

"Because I'll still be too focused on doing this," she answered, and, in the next moment, Quinn had brought her hands to Rachel's head and guided their mouths together in a kiss.

Neither of them were sure who moaned the first moment their lips touched, maybe it had been both of them, but it didn't matter. Rachel's hands slid into Quinn's hair and Quinn grabbed Rachel's waist and pulled her even closer. Quinn knew she should have gone slow, been gentle and practical with Rachel, because she was kissing her best friend who had just gotten out of a long-term relationship, and this was all new for both of them. But there had been years, that felt more like lifetimes, of build up between them, and, as Quinn ran her tongue along Rachel's bottom lip seeking entrance into the hot, passionate, mysterious recesses of that perfect Berry mouth, she thought to herself (with what little coherent thought she had left) that life was entirely too short and that a lifetime of kissing Rachel Berry would never fully satisfy her. She needed Rachel like she needed to breathe and if she died right now from lack of oxygen, well, at least she would die breathing Rachel in.

"Just . . . _wanky_," came a voice from the door.

Rachel to sprang away from Quinn like she'd been burnt, causing her to tumble off of Quinn's bed and onto the floor. She didn't bother flipping over from where she had face-planted on Quinn's floor, sure that perhaps if she laid face-down long enough then God would eventually take mercy on her and open up the earth to swallow her whole. She could hear Santana's laugh and willed herself to just burst into fiery, Quinn-induced flames at that moment.

"SANTANA!" Quinn shrieked indignantly. "Knock much?"

Through her bouts of uncontrollable laughter, Santana managed to say, "Not really," and then, "Just imagine if I'd been your mom, Q? Do you think Berry would have swan-dived out your window?"

"Yes, I would have," Rachel muttered, her voice muffled to the others because of the floor.

"Quinn? Santana? Rachel, sweetheart? What are you doing on the floor, dear?" Judy asked as she came into the room.

Rachel pushed herself up off the floor immediately. "I should go!" she exclaimed, her voice almost a yell. Her face was beet red as she shuffled toward the door. "I should . . . yeah."

Quinn launched herself off of her mattress. "Wait! Rachel, don't . . . _whoa_." Quinn's words were lost as a bout of dizziness hit her and she swayed dangerously.

"Quinn!" Judy and Rachel yelled at the same time, both rushing forward.

"Easy there, Q," Santana warned her, catching her friend's elbow and pulling her back into a sitting position. "Concussion, remember?"

"Yeah, Santana. I got that, thanks," Quinn snapped sarcastically as she held her head in her hand.

"Santana's right, Quinn," Rachel added, taking a seat next to Quinn and skimming her fingers through the length of Quinn's silky blonde hair several times. "You need to be careful."

Quinn pouted in what Rachel secretly thought was a perfectly adorable way. "Being careful sucks," the blonde complained petulantly.

Rachel laughed, still running her fingers through Quinn hair, while holding her best friend's other hand. "Quinn, you've been hurt twice in less than a week trying to defend my honor. Maybe next time, you'll think about just letting Santana cut them down with her vicious words?"

Quinn frowned. "But you're _my_ friend," she whined "If anyone should be standing up for you, it should be . . ." She caught sight of Rachel's disproving glare and her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Yeah. Okay."

"Yeah, Quinn," Santana chose to pipe in, "leave the chivalry to the people who can pull it off without hurting themselves."

Before Quinn and Santana could break out into a full-out argument, Judy decided it was best if she stepped in. "Girls," she said in warning. "Santana, perhaps it's best if we don't antagonize Quinn for the moment, hmm? And both of you, Rachel is, apparently, perfectly capable of defending herself, if her actions to today are anything to go by. Now Quinn? Listen to 'your Rachel', sweetheart," Judy finished, sending her daughter a knowing wink before she gracefully swept out of the room.

All three of the girls looked after her with stunned expressions on their respective faces.

"Um, did that actually . . . ?" Quinn began, unsure of how to phrase that particular question.

"Just happen?" Rachel finished bewilderedly.

Santana grinned in her wicked, wicked she-devil way. "That totally just happened," she exclaimed. The Latina looked to her friends, "This is better than Spanish soap operas."

:::::::::::::::::::


	12. Chapter 12

12.

Thursday morning had Quinn feeling very out of sorts. Her mother had insisted she stay home for the day, just in case, but Quinn had played hooky enough in her senior year as it was. Besides, she wanted to see Rachel, and she had a sneaking suspicion that her mother was well aware of that as well.

She hadn't gotten a chance to talk with Rachel about their kiss the night before. Santana and Rachel had both stayed until well after nine o'clock, having dinner and talking and, even in Santana's case, joining her mother in fussing over Quinn. When it became clear to Rachel that she was not going to out-stay Santana and she felt that her fathers would probably be wanting her home, she had left, with Santana leaving shortly thereafter.

Then Rachel had texted (not called) her this morning to ask her if she would be okay getting to school on her own, because Rachel had to get to school early to finish a project and wanted Quinn to rest. Since Quinn and Rachel shared most of the same classes and Quinn knew that they didn't have any projects due in any of them right now, she was left to wonder if kissing Rachel had really been such a good idea or if she had crossed a line in their relationship which shouldn't have been crossed. She had been biting her nails worrying about it.

"I'm sure everything is fine, sweetheart," her mother spoke suddenly, pulling Quinn from her contemplative silence.

Quinn turned her head to regard her mother in the driver's seat. "What?"

The older Fabray woman looked keenly to her daughter. "Lucy Quinn Fabray, now I know I haven't always been the best mother–" Judy's face tightened.

"–Mom," Quinn tried to protest.

"No, no, it's true, I haven't," Judy admitted grievingly, "but did you really think that I was oblivious to what was happening with you and those . . . _unique_ girls over the summer?" Quinn's silence seemed to serve as answer enough for her mother. "Darling, I _knew_."

In the back of Quinn's still-foggy mind she realized that there were tears building in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, mom. I never– I mean, I tried _so hard_ to ignore it, thinking maybe it would go away, but it hasn't and being around Rachel . . . Mom, it hurts _so much_ trying to deny it. It physically hurts," Quinn cried, because she was full-on weeping now. She took a moment to compose herself and exhaled, "If you'll just let me grab some of my things from my room at home, I promise I'll leave and you'll never have to–"

The sound of brakes screeching cut Quinn's sentence off and she lurched forward as she felt her seatbelt lock. Her first thought when the violent movement had come to a standstill was to look around the roads for whatever had made her mother stop so suddenly and, seeing absolutely nothing, she turned to her mother wildly. She saw the tears in her mother's eyes and she was sure that it was the first time in her life that she had seen her mother cry.

"Mom? Mom, I'm so sorry, I'm so _so_ sorry," she pled as she resumed her sobbing.

Judy turned to look at her, and raised her hand and Quinn was expecting a slap across the face, so she closed her eyes. What she felt instead, was the gentle caress of her mother's fingers stroking her face.

"Oh, Lucy," her mother's voice broke. "My sweet, sweet, beautiful girl. What have I let be done to you? What have _I_ done to you? Come here, darling." Judy reached across the center console and pulled Quinn into a hug and cried.

That was it, that was all there was for several long, quiet moments, sobs and hugs and nothing else.

"I have made so many mistakes," Judy confessed, "but taking you back, starting over with you, was not one of them. Letting you be exiled from your home when you needed me most, that was the biggest mistake I have ever made as your mother." She held Quinn's face in her hands. "You tried so hard to be the perfect daughter until it broke you, when really I should have been trying to be a better mother, instead of living under your father's thumb." Judy smiled softly and hiccupped from all her tears. "I love you _so_ much, Quinn. _You_ are my most important thing, and you're not going anywhere."

Quinn blinked her teary eyes. "You don't want me to leave?" she asked softly.

Judy shook her head. "Never," she said firmly. "Honey, I won't lie and tell you that this is the life I wanted you to live, but that's not because I don't approve of you _or_ Rachel. I _love_ Rachel. I mean, obviously not in the same way that you do because that would be wildly inap–"

"Mom," Quinn cut in, causing Judy to stumble in her explanation. "I got it. So you were saying . . .?"

Judy took a deep, calming breath and refocused herself. "It's not because I don't love Rachel, because, despite my subpar maternal ability, I've come to see Rachel as a third-daughter. And just because this isn't the life I envisioned for you, it doesn't mean that I'm not going to support you and love you. It's because this _will_ make your life more complicated. There are people out there who are going to try to hurt you for feeling the way you do, Quinn, and your father is one of them, and I would like to be able to protect you from all of that, but there's just no way I can. I _can_ be here for you though. And Rachel too, if she would accept me."

Quinn stared at her mother for a long time, and finally she said, "I love you, Mom," and threw her arms around her mother, because really, after a testament like that, how else was she supposed to respond?

"I love you too, Lucy Quinn," her mother answered. "So, _so_ much."

:::::::::::::::::::

Rachel was beginning to get worried as her eyes remained fixed on the clock above the classroom door. Two minutes until class started and the chair beside her where Quinn had taken to sitting was still glaringly vacant. Where was she? Quinn was always early for everything, unless she was purposely trying to be 'fashionably late', and Quinn had never found it fashionable to be late to class before.

Rachel felt a tap on her back before she heard a "Psst, Berry," coming from behind her. Rachel turned to find Santana was trying to get her attention, which was odd, because Santana ordinarily did everything possible to _not_ pay any attention to Rachel outside the choir room.

"How can I help you, Santana?" Rachel asked, but even to her own ears her voice sounded distressed and agitated.

"Where's Q?" the Latina asked, ignoring the tone that Rachel had taken with her.

"Santana, I have been with you nearly every second since I arrived at school this morning," Rachel said, trying to keep her voice even. "What would give you reason to believe that I know any more about Quinn's whereabouts than you?"

Santana scowled at her. "Well you have a phone, don't you? A phone that Quinn texts messages to kinda, you know, _all the time_?" she pointed out, as if this should have been obvious.

"Well as do you," Rachel snapped, her ill-temper finally taking control. "She could just as likely have texted you."

"Whoa, reel in the diva drama, Berry," Santana said, holding up her hands. "I was just asking."

Rachel sighed, knowing that this was true and she was out-of-line going off on Santana like that. "I'm sorry," she mumbled reluctantly to the Latina. "I just . . . I texted Quinn to tell her I couldn't drive her to school because of our 'project', and I'm worried, and if something's happened to her then I blame myself for it because it easily could have been avoided if I'd just driven her to school."

"Then text her." It was the least expected and calmest reply Rachel could remember receiving from Santana since the third grade when they had been actual friends in primary school.

Rachel hastily pulled her phone from the pocket of her jumper and typed out a message, hitting 'SEND'.

**Rachel: Where are you? Santana and I are getting worried.**

The bell rang and at that very moment, Quinn sprinted through the door. Ignoring the chiding glare from their teacher, Quinn hurried to the second row to the seat next to Rachel. "Is it okay if I sit here?" she asked quietly enough for only Rachel to hear.

Rachel's smile faded to scrunched. "Well, _yeah_. Quinn that's your seat," Rachel said, tone implying that Quinn was being ridiculous. She put her hand on the back of Quinn's chair and pulled it out for her. "Sit."

Quinn smiled, ducking her face to hide a creeping blush. "Thanks," she replied as she sat down.

As she was beginning to get her book and notepad from her bag, she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and she pulled it out under the table.

**From Rachel  
Where are you? Santana and I are getting worried.**

She read the message several times in confusion, before looking up at Rachel. "I'm right beside you," she whispered lowly to the girl.

Rachel looked confused for a moment until she saw the phone in Quinn's hands and pieced it together. "I sent it while we were waiting for you," she explained in an equally quiet voice.

"Oh."

Quinn read the message again, before subtly typing a response.

**Quinn: You were worried about me?**

Rachel, knowing what Quinn was doing, was half-disproving and half-thrilled by the risk factor of what they were doing, knowing their teacher could catch them at any moment. Her phone buzzed and glanced at it under the table.

**From Quinn  
You were worried about me?**

Rachel briefly looked at Quinn as she replied.

**Rachel: Of course I was! How could you think I wouldn't be? You're never late.**

**From Quinn  
I'm only always early because I'm always with you :P**

**Rachel: Are calling me a control-freak? :l**

**From Quinn  
Haha. No, I'm calling you a good influence. :)**

Rachel looked up to see Quinn's smirking face and she smiled in return before continuing their secret conversation.

**Rachel: Well I suppose that's an acceptable response :P So are you going to tell my why you were late?**

From the very corner of her peripheral vision, she saw Quinn freeze for a moment, before the girl began typing, and soon Rachel felt a new vibration on her lap.

**From Quinn  
If I tell you, you promise not to freak out? :s**

**Rachel: In a room full of people where we're not even supposed to be having this exchange? I don't know Quinn, let me think about it.**

She shot Quinn a glowering look just for emphasis.

**From Quinn  
Okay, okay. I was actually talking about AFTER class, Miss Sarcasm. :P**

**From Quinn  
My mom apparently knows about what happened with Mackenzie over the summer.**

Seeing why Quinn's mother might 'freak out' about this, Rachel calmly responded:

**Rachel: Was she upset at you?**

**From Quinn  
No, she wasn't, but I expected her to be. I started crying and telling her I would leave and then she started crying and telling me she would never want me to**

**From Quinn  
and apologizing for not being a good mom and she hugged me and she told me she loved me. We were parked in the car halfway to school. That's why I was almost late.**

**From Quinn**

**I'm sorry I worried you.**

Once Rachel was done being bombarded with the three separate texts it took for Quinn to tell her whole story, she carefully read them over. She frowned in some parts, smiled in others, happy tears sprung to her eyes, and she felt a sense of pride in Judy for being so accepting. She knew that Quinn's mother had come a long way since divorcing Mr. Fabray. She just hadn't realized _how far_ until now. Rachel got halfway through her responding text before the bell rang and she realized that she and Quinn had spent the whole class texting one another and not paying attention to the lesson.

"Don't panic, I'll borrow the notes from Santana." Quinn's knowing assurance caused Rachel to start, if not because of the surprise then certainly because the words were whispered right into her ear.

She turned her head to look at Quinn to find the blonde with both hands placed on the back of Rachel's chair, leaning forward. Quinn smiled and it made Rachel smile in return, as if Quinn's happiness was a contagious condition that Rachel was more than happy to come down with. The blonde offered her hand delicately to Rachel, and Rachel placed her own hand into Quinn's, allowing the girl to lightly pull her up and push her chair in after her.

Rachel looked over her shoulder to smirk. "And they say chivalry is dead," she remarked.

Quinn wasn't really sure how to answer that, so she rolled her eyes and tried unsuccessfully to suppress her smile. She gently pushed Rachel to move away from the table and out the door. Rachel's footsteps slowed and came to a sudden stop, along with Santana who had been walking ahead of them, and Quinn looked over their shoulders to see what would have made them both stop. Her confusion only grew when she saw that her two friends were looking in complete opposite directions.

Quinn turned her head to follow Rachel's gaze first and her eyes fell on Cassie and Azimio standing by the water fountain and throwing the three of them dirty looks. She grabbed Rachel's shaking hand, intending to lead her in the other direction, when her eyes found the reason for Santana's sudden halt. The Skanks stood at the end of the hall, just staring at Quinn with devious looks on their faces.

"Well, what the hell are we supposed to do now?" Santana griped, just loud enough for Quinn and Rachel to hear.

Surprisingly, or not so surprisingly when Quinn really stopped to contemplate it, Rachel was the one who pushed past her two friends and carried on down the hall with her head held high in typical fashion. Santana exchanged a look with Quinn, who shrugged minutely before following after Rachel, trying to look as fearless as her best friend certainly did at that moment.

Rachel had to use all her extensive acting skills to wipe off the smirk at seeing Quinn and Santana following _her_. In her peripheral vision, she saw Quinn try to reassert her usual confident HBIC mask and Santana quickly trying to do the same. For Rachel, holding her head high and turning the other cheek while carrying on about her day, with only the minor setback of a recovery break in the girls' washroom after a slushy attack, was just a typical day. Her entire life for the past three-and-a-half years had consisted of braving intimidation, pointedly ignoring degradation, and maintaining her take on the moral high ground. She was an expert on it. For Quinn and Santana, who had been on the opposite side of the situation throughout high school, it seemed that this was not the case.

They made it to their Calculus class without any trouble and Rachel sat down at one of the desks in the room, beside Kurt who had gotten there before her, and she sensed, rather than saw, Quinn take a seat to her other side. Santana drifted further to the seat behind her, to be near Brittany in order to break down Calculus into more understandable concepts for the blonde. Almost as soon as Rachel sat down, Kurt was turning toward her with a gleam in his eyes.

"So," he began in a drawn out tone. Rachel smirked at her best friend's theatrics. "Spring Fling is next week. Are you coming to my house, or am I coming to yours? Or have you already made prior arrangements?"

The smile fell off Rachel's face. Spring Fling . . . she hadn't even thought about it. She had rarely even gone to dances in the past, aside from Homecoming and Prom, but she had been to almost all of them in her senior year . . . but then she had been with Finn, now she was not. There was only one person she wanted to go with and she didn't stand a chance; though they had shared a rather memorable kiss just the night before, Quinn was still concussed even now, and Rachel highly doubted that it would happen again. Even if Quinn was attracted to women and _had_ kissed Rachel, it didn't mean anything and Rachel wasn't deluded enough to really think that it did. It had simply been a kiss - an amazing, unforgettable, exhilarating kiss - between friends. That was it.

"Actually, I wasn't planning on attending," Rachel told him, her notebook from her bag and uncapping her pen as the teacher walked into the room.

"WHAT?!" Kurt gasped loudly.

The class, including their instructor, turned to look at the two oddly and Rachel slouched in her seat as her face became red, before remembering her perfect posture and righting herself.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Hummel? Miss Berry?" Mrs. Helsing inquired with a raised brow.

Rachel sent Kurt a pointed glare before turning back to their teacher. "No, ma'am. Everything's fine, _please_ continue," Rachel almost begged the teacher, willing Kurt to be silent for the rest of class.

She really should have known better.

As soon as the teacher's back was turned, Kurt started in on her. "_Why_ would you not go?" he demanded in a hushed voice.

"Kurt," Rachel whined, cautiously eyeing Quinn on her other side. Despite the blonde's eyes being fixed on the board at the front of the room, she knew that Quinn was eavesdropping because her pen would stop moving whenever someone spoke. She looked back to Kurt. "Can we _please_ discuss this later?" she begged.

"Sure," Kurt answered. Rachel sighed in relief, before the boy added, "if you tell me why you don't want to go?"

Breathing out a heavy sigh, Rachel's body slumped. "Kurt, it's really not important enough to take precedence over Ms. Helsing's lesson," Rachel tried to deter him.

She could feel Kurt's suspicious eyes on her. "You're tied for top in our class, Rachel. You can stand to have your attention divided long enough to tell me why you don't want to go to Spring Fling," he countered slyly.

"Kurt, later."

"Why don't you want to go?"

"Really, Kurt, just leave it alone."

"Why won't you go to the dance?"

"Because it's stupid, okay? And not worth missing valuable class lessons talking about it," Rachel snapped in a voice that was now above a whisper.

"Miss Berry?" Ms. Helsing's attention was now on her and Rachel felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. "Is something going on that you would like to share with me? A distraction you would like to address?" Ms. Helsing was now bearing down on Rachel over her desk, forcing Rachel to shrink back involuntarily.

"It's been a rough morning for her, Ms. H," Santana said from behind Rachel, causing their teacher to redirect her intimidation. Santana slouched and looked at the woman with a bored, almost challenging look. The Latina shrugged carelessly. "Everybody has them right? Even Miss Brilliant-Star-Model-Student can't be perfect all the time, especially when others are trying to be prying gossip-mongers?" Santana's lethal gaze shot to Kurt, who quickly averted his eyes. "She had a small outburst, she's over it now. Right, Berry?"

Rachel nodded, half in fear of their teacher's wrath and half in astonishment that it was Santana Lopez who was voluntarily shouldering the brunt of it for Rachel's sake. "Yes, ma'am. I apologize," she murmured quietly.

Ms. Helsing hovered for a moment, before relenting. "This is your last warning, Miss Berry. The next will be a visit to Figgins's office, do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, Ms. Helsing," Rachel replied, swallowing a gulp.

"Good. Now, as I was saying . . ."

Rachel really didn't hear much else after that, because she turned her head over her shoulder and looked at Santana questioningly. The girl nodded, subtly lifting her index finger from her desk to signal Rachel to turn around and wait (and how Rachel knew that that was what Santana was telling her from a single minute lift of a finger would forever evade Rachel's understanding). A few seconds after Rachel had turned to the front and began taking notes again, she felt something poke her neck and be tucked into the back of her blouse and she stifled a surprised squeak as she reached back to find whatever it was.

Her fingers closed around a white, triangle-folded piece of ruled paper and she slowly unfolded it as quietly as possible. Her eyes turned down to the note in her lap as she kept one hand around her pen on the page of her notebook.

_You're acting weird. Even for you. Trouble in the Shire?  
P.S. I mean that in the less bitchiest way I'm capable of, but if you ever tell anyone that or if this note gets to anyone else, I will ends you, got it?_

All Rachel needed right now was to miss more valuable class time with texts and gossip and notes; however, she knew Santana well enough to know that if she tried to ignore her, Santana would just start making paper-footballs and aiming them at the back of Rachel's head. Wanting to spare herself further harassment, she wrote down an explanation.

_I concede to your pact of discretion, Santana, and I understand that sarcasm is your way of masking genuine concern. Thank you for getting Ms. Helsing "off my back", as you would say. To answer your question, I am fine. Kurt was simply persistently inquiring as to why I will not be attending the Spring Fling and I had a moment lapse of patience.  
Thank you for your consideration,  
Rachel Berry_

Without refolding the note, seeing as it would look more suspicious in her opinion, Rachel returned the note to Santana's desk and turned back around to pay attention to the rest of class.


	13. Chapter 13

13.

Just as Kurt was obviously about to begin questioning her again after class had ended, Santana swooped in yet again to save her. The Latina grabbed her elbow and shot Kurt some semblance of a smile.

"Sorry, I need to borrow her. Glee stuff," Santana rattled off, dragging Rachel in the opposite direction.

Rachel turned to give Kurt an apologetic look, but her eyes fell to Quinn's eyes to find confusion, and . . . was that disappointment? No, why would it be? Rachel would see Quinn later at lunch. Maybe.

"You write notes the way you talk, Berry. Rambling and wordy," Santana stated once they had reached the balcony overlooking the auditorium. "So, spill it. What's really up? You're different today. I thought you'd be all happy after that little PDA with Q last night."

Rachel huffed. "First of all, Santana, PDA stands for public display of affection and Quinn and I were speaking privately in her room behind closed doors when the kiss came about. Second of all, the way I speak and write is perfectly fine. You're the one who initiated conversation in both cases, and if you don't like the way I express my thoughts then perhaps you shouldn't ask for them," Rachel said defensively in clipped tones. "Lastly, I am no different today than I was yesterday. Now, thank you for your concern, but I have to get to class." Rachel turned to leave but a hand on her wrist stopped her.

Santana caught hold of Rachel's wrist and held her in place. "Whoa. Slow your roll, Rachel. You and I have a free period, remember? We were going to practice our duet more?" Santana reminded her.

She looked at Rachel, _really looked_ at her, for the first time that morning and it was then that she started to see it. Rachel had obviously not slept well the night before, as evident by the dark and puffy bags under her eyes that even MAC didn't sell enough make-up to hide. The petite girl's eyeliner and mascara were a little too little, as if she was trying not to attract attention to her big doe eyes that were, even Santana wasn't ashamed to admit, quite possibly her best feature. As Santana looked closer, she realized that there was a residual redness to Rachel's eyes that could only be the result of excessive crying. She knew, Rachel had not looked like this yesterday, even after her multiple freak outs and breakdowns throughout the course of the day's events.

Santana sat down in one of the seats and crossed one leg over the other and folded her arms over her chest. "But I think I _actually_ want to know about what's going on with you, more than I want to sing," Santana said in realization, shocking even herself.

"No offense, Santana, but it's _really_ none of your business," Rachel spat in uncharacteristic venom in her voice.

"I'm making it my business," Santana replied, completely nonplussed by Rachel's shocking hostility. "You say that nothing's wrong, that you're not any different than you are any other day, but that's a lie." Santana stepped in to invade Rachel's personal space, but Rachel didn't back away. "Listen to yourself, Berry. You're moody, you're hostile, you're snappy, impatient, defensive, huffy. It's almost like you're a normal teenage girl."

"I _am_ a normal teenage girl, Santana," Rachel shot back.

"No, you're Rachel Berry," Santana countered in the same calm and calculating tone, "future Broadway actress, Tony and EGOT award winner, the next Barbra Streisand. You're a star. You're not normal. You've never _been_ 'normal', Rachel, and you've always been the first one to point it out to anyone who'll listen." Santana looked at her. "So what the hell's gotten into you today?"

"I'M ANGRY, Santana!" Rachel finally yelled into the open acoustics of the theatre. The little brunette swiped angrily at her tears, "I'm angry and confused and I feel like my chest" – she clutched her chest – "is slowly being ripped open and everything inside of me is shriveling and dying! And I just– Santana, I can't . . ."

"Sing," Santana said suddenly.

"What?" Rachel demanded.

Santana sighed and pushed herself to her feet. "For once, you seem like you can't say something," Santana stated evenly, no hint of mockery in her voice, "so . . . do what you do best, Berry. Sing it."

Rachel stopped and thought about it, rifled through the jukebox that was her mind, but in the end she knew what song she needed to express. She was nervous, standing in front of Santana who was staring at her so openly, so she shook out her hands to release some of the energy before she began.

_You're in my arms, and all the world is calm.  
The music playing on for only two.  
So close, together.  
And when I'm with you  
So close, to feeling alive._

A life goes by,  
Romantic dreams must die.  
So I bid my goodbye  
And never knew.  
So close, was waiting,  
Waiting here with you.  
And now, forever, I know  
All that I wanted  
to hold you so close.

So close to reaching  
That famous happy end.  
Almost believing  
This one's not pretend.  
And now you're beside me,  
And look how far we've come.  
So far we are. So close...

Oh how could I face the faceless days  
If I should lose you now?

We're so close to reaching  
that famous happy end,  
And almost believing,  
this one's not pretend.  
Let's go on dreaming  
for we know we are...  
so close, so close  
and still so far... 

Rachel didn't realize she was crying until she opened her eyes to find that Santana's figure was blurry, and she immediately wiped them away. She felt embarrassed at having cried in front of Santana for the second time in as many days, but Santana just sat and looked at her without any accusation or malice. They were silent for a long time.

"Feel better?" Santana asked with an indecipherable lilt to her voice.

Rachel nodded and cleared her throat. "Yes. Thank you," she answered.

"Yeah, well, you were freaking me out, being all un-Berry-like," Santana replied nonchalantly.

"Are you saying you prefer me to be 'not normal', Santana?" Rachel teased gleefully.

A dark look came over Santana's eyes and she pointed a stern finger at Rachel. "I never said that," she growled, but it was entirely apparent that she was fighting a smile. "I didn't. And this" – she gestured between the two of them – "never happened."

Rachel laughed a teary chuckle and wiped more tears away. "Whatever you say, Santana," she said, causing the taller brunette to glower at her comically.

It was lunch period. Santana was MIA. Rachel was nowhere to be found. It was nowhere near enough to say that Quinn was freaking out.

She had seen Santana drag Rachel off earlier, after Calculus class, and she hadn't seen either of them since. She knew Santana usually went to the gym to practice routines or choreography during her free and Quinn could almost undoubtedly find Rachel in either the choir room or the library when she wasn't in class or with Quinn. She had checked everywhere except the auditorium and the football field, and only excluded those two places because it was unlikely to find either Rachel or Santana anywhere near bleachers now knowing who lurked underneath them and the auditorium had been locked for the first time Quinn could remember; usually Mr. Schue made sure it remained unlocked so the glee kids could come and go whenever they wanted.

_Speak of the sweater vest_, Quinn thought as she caught sight of Mr. Schue entering the choir room.

She poked her head inside. "Mr. Schue?"

The man looked up and smiled. "Quinn. Shouldn't you be in the cafeteria?" he asked, not unkindly.

"I was supposed to meet Rachel for lunch," Quinn explained. "I can't find her _or_ Santana. Have you seen either of them? And do you know why the auditorium is locked?"

Mr. Schue's brow furrowed. "Rachel and Santana were in here early this morning asking if they could use the copier and auditorium for a rehearsal, I've only seen them briefly in the halls since then," he explained.

"Rehearsal . . . Rachel said she was working on a project this morning," Quinn remembered. _Why would she lie about that? And why wouldn't she bring me?_ "Mr. Schue, have you noticed Rachel acting . . . _odd_ lately?"

"More so than usual, you mean?" he inquired.

Quinn felt her protective strings being tugged at Mr. Schue's joke. Only _she_ was allowed to make fun of Rachel's oddity, jokingly or (less so lately) otherwise. Mr. Schue didn't understand Rachel, so he didn't get to laugh at Rachel's expense.

Noticing Quinn's intense gaze, Mr. Schue cleared his throat. "Not, not really," he answered seriously. "Although, she has been kind of . . . _off_, since her break up with Finn. I know he misses her, maybe it's the same vice versa." He shrugged.

Fighting back the sensation of being punched in the stomach at the mention of Rachel missing Finn, Quinn tried to see the logic of that. Maybe Mr. Schue was right, maybe Rachel _was_ missing Finn, and Quinn had been too wrapped up in her own feelings for Rachel to even notice Rachel's emotional struggles. Quinn hated to think that maybe Rachel kissing her back was just a rebound and that maybe her feelings really were one-sided, but the more she thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

"Thanks, Mr. Schue," she heard herself say, as if from a distance.

She seemed to float down the hallway, completely numb to everything around her. Why did she always have to be such an insensitive jerk? She had _known_ Rachel had just gotten out of a serious relationship, and she also knew that Rachel had only ever expressed romantic interest in guys, so why would she have expected anything else. She was projecting her own feelings onto Rachel and that wasn't fair of her. Rachel was her best friend, Rachel was supposed to come first. Quinn was being selfish again, without even realizing it, and she needed to stop pushing herself onto Rachel.

If Rachel wanted to be happy with Finn, then Quinn had to accept that. Even if it hurt like hell.

"No more avoiding each other. I'm making that a rule."

"Santana, since you're not actually me _or_ Quinn, I don't really think you can make that a rule," Rachel pointed out.

"Tough luck, I'm making it one anyway, because someone needs to," Santana stated as she walked beside Rachel on their way to find Quinn.

Rachel worried that maybe Quinn thought she'd been stood up for lunch, since she and Santana were already late as it was. Santana had texted Brittany to let her know that they were coming and to tell Quinn as well, but Rachel was unsure if that message had actually gotten to Quinn, given that Brittany's attention span really didn't last more than a few seconds. Not that it made Rachel like Brittany any less.

They arrived in the cafeteria to find Brittany sitting with Kurt and Blaine, but no sign of Quinn. Rachel slowed down.

"Uh, hey Britt, where's Q?" Santana asked cautiously.

Brittany smiled good-naturedly at them. "She went to find you and Rachel," Brittany told them. "Did you forget who was hiding and who was seeking, or are you on a new round?"

"When did she leave, Brittany?" Rachel asked.

Brittany frowned. "I don't know, Rach. I'm sorry," she said, disappointed she couldn't help her friends. "I know it was awhile ago though. Does that help?"

Rachel smiled and gave Brittany a one-armed hug. "Yes, it does. Thanks, Brittany," she told the girl. She looked at Santana, "Stay here with Brittany. I'll find Quinn."

"You sure?" Santana asked, her arms already draped over Brittany's shoulder from behind.

Rachel could help but smile. "Yeah, one of us should get to be with her girl," she conceded. "I see you in glee."

As she was leaving the cafeteria, Rachel withdrew her phone from her pocket.

**Rachel**: **Where are you? I'm sorry I was late. Please don't be mad? 3**

Rachel meandered aimlessly through the school. Without knowing where Quinn might actually _be_ it was hard to find her. Quinn was regimented, she stuck to her schedule and her routine, it was how she maintained order and control now. It was so unlike her to go so off-script.

Her phone beeped once, signaling a text.

**From Quinn**

**Bathroom. I'll be there in a minute.**

The way Quinn answered her, with such short sentences and no humor, left Rachel feeling like maybe Quinn actually _was_ mad at her. She had a feeling she knew which bathroom Quinn was in; _their_ bathroom, the one they seemed to have all their 'moments' in before they became friends. She started in that direction, towards the other side of the school.

Maybe Santana was right. Maybe she and Quinn _did_ need a rule about avoiding each other.

**Rachel: Don't move.**

Seconds later another alert sounded.

**From Quinn  
No, Rachel. I'll be right there.**

Rachel ignored Quinn's text, since she was ten feet away from the washroom door and she knew arguing with Quinn was stupid anyway. She pushed open the door and stepped into the bathroom. She immediately frowned. Staring back at her in the reflection of the mirror was a teary-eyed Quinn Fabray, and suddenly Rachel understood why Quinn hadn't want her to come find her.

Quinn sighed and turned to really face Rachel. "I told you I'd be right there," she said emotionlessly.

Rachel stepped forward. "I needed to talk to you. Apparently I need _you_ to talk to _me_ too," she said. She took a few more hesitant steps forward, until she was finally right in front of Quinn and reached up to wiped the tears from her best friend's eyes, only seeming to cause more to leak out.

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel sighed, trying to keep anything that could be construed as pity from finding its way into her tone. She grabbed Quinn and pulled her into a hug, and Quinn stiffened for a moment before her body relaxed. Rachel held her for a moment before finally pulling away and turning to wet some paper towels from the dispenser. She gestured to Quinn's face. "May I?"

Quinn let out a shaky sigh. "Go ahead," she said softly.

Rachel gripped Quinn's chin in her hand gently as she wiped the tear stains from her friends face. Rachel allowed a small smile to blossom on her face. "I remember the first time we were in these positions," she mused aloud. She laughed. "At least you didn't slap me this time." She saw Quinn winced at the mention of the slap and her hand stopped. "Quinn, that was a joke," she said. Quinn didn't respond, so Rachel muttered, "though obviously not a very funny one."

She was quiet for awhile and Quinn remained mute as well.

"I remember I told you that you were the prettiest girl I'd ever met, but there was more to you than that," Rachel said as she tosses the damp and crumpled paper towels into the trash can. She turned her face back to Quinn, "I always knew you were in there. Who you are now is exactly who I saw hiding behind the mask back then. I always knew you were there." Rachel leaned up on her toes so she was nearly at eye-level with Quinn, and she came closer slowly. "Just tell me if I get too close for your comfort."

"Rachel, what are you doing?" Quinn asked, feeling confused and slightly afraid. She loved Rachel, but not enough to let her play with Quinn's heart.

"I think I'm going to kiss you, if that's okay," Rachel whispered, so close that Quinn could _feel_ Rachel's words.

"No," Quinn whispered, then more loudly, "No." She side-stepped away from the brunette and looked at her, eyes swimming with tears again. "Rachel, I love you, but I can't be your rebound. I'm sorry."

Rachel took a moment to recover, let alone register Quinn's words. When she did, her brow furrowed in hurt and confusion. "Quinn, what are you talking about? A 'rebound'? Where did you even get that from? Did Finn try to get in your head again? Because, I swear, if he did–"

"If he had said it, would he have been wrong?" Quinn demanded. "What am I to you, Rachel?"

All Rachel could do for several tense seconds was stare at Quinn, before finally saying, "You have no idea what you mean to me, do you?" Quinn shuffled her feet and looked down in response. "Quinn, you . . . you mean _everything_ to me. You're everything to me. You're the first person I think of when I wake up in the morning, and the last person on my mind when I fall asleep. I have dreams of you. When I know you're going to call, I sit and wait and look at my phone every ten seconds, and when I know you're not going to call me, all I want to do is call you. And it's so ironic to think about because . . .

"God, I used to envy you so much; you were beautiful and powerful and confident, but I also saw something in you that I didn't think the others did; a person. I had you on a pedestal, hung up in the sky, but I also saw through the pretty, popular girl to _this_ you, the girl who could become my best friend. And then, slowly, you did and the more I got to know you - _this_ you - the more I realized that I may have known there was more to you, but I had no idea _how much_. You weren't the stereotypical head cheerleader that everyone thought you were, because there's nothing _typical_ about you. You're brilliant and gorgeous and passionate and extraordinary and worldly, and a million other things that I could spend a lifetime listing off and a million more things that I probably don't even know yet, and every time - every _single_ time- that I find another one-in-a-million thing about you it makes me love you a little more every time."

Rachel stepped forward and took Quinn's hands in hers, kissing the back of each one. "Quinn, you're a lot of things; my strength, my weakness, my hero, my former-tormentor, my best friend, my crush . . . but you are _no one_'s rebound. And if I thought for even a second, that that was the case? Then we wouldn't even be having this conversation right now. But these feelings that I have for you, they're older than that. They pre-date my feelings for Finn by at least a year."

Rachel closed her eyes and took a deep breath, "Blue sundress, braided hair, a white rose, sandals, and a rosary."

Quinn's face scrunched in confusion and she laughed, "What?"

"It's what you were wearing on the first day of freshman year, the first time I ever saw you, and the first time I ever felt like my whole world stopped to focus on one thing, and that thing was you, Quinn," Rachel said with so much honesty that Quinn felt her knees buckle under the weight of it. "I knew that day that you were going to mean something to me, and you do. You mean everything."


End file.
